


Fix It

by stupidsexyarizona



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 02:23:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 45,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2905730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stupidsexyarizona/pseuds/stupidsexyarizona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there's one thing Amelia can fix, it's Herman's tumor. Arizona/Amelia</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

" _Shut up,_ " she hisses, and pulls her hand roughly towards the storage room. She is shoved in quickly and the door slams shut behind her.

She vaguely remembers that this is the storage room where people make out and have sex. Her breath hitches in her throat a little, and her heart races only so slightly before she remembers to regard the look on the other woman's face which is more contemptuous than lustful.

"Dammit, Amelia," she warns, "can't you lower your voice?"

"About?" Amelia grins knowingly. She knows it's about Nicole Herman's brain tumor, but a part of her wants it to be about something else. Most of her does. She thinks that she probably wants people to want her in other ways.

Broken people, or people who know what it's like to be broken. To be at a loss.

To have nothing, but one thing.

Like Owen. She doesn't know much about him. Besides murmurs of Cristina. Besides Meredith's chatter. Besides the veteran's project.

And like Arizona. She doesn't know much about her, either. What she does remember is that Arizona had bouncy blonde hair that seemed to flutter as she turned hallway corners during her years in med school. She only knew her by name, and sometimes by the friends who happened to sleep with the overachieving med student. She never looked for anything serious.

They never spoke. They graduated. Years later, she heard from Addison that Callie Torres married Arizona Robbins.

Now she knew her as her fellow colleague. She knew her from the hospital gossip, from Addison, from the shambles of her brother's marriage: car crash, plane crash, leg, broken up with Callie. Once, twice - finality. Etcetera, etcetera. Everyone in their own dilemma.

Except, now she's part of it.

"About Herman, dammit!" Arizona yells at her, "It's already a freaking problem that you know!"

This riles her up. But she coolly retorts, "I'm saving her life, Arizona."

The blonde collects herself. Her shoulders slump, and she looks contemplative. She admits her wrongs. She crosses her arms, furrows her brows. It's a stern look.

"I know," she admits. "Just… be more quiet about it? As in, don't tell me about your game plan in the halls, and don't use names, and don't-"

"Alright, alright," Amelia interrupts. "I was just excited."

"Excited?" she asks, bemused.

"Can't I be?" she grins, "It's awesome."

"Awesome?" Arizona asks, her brows raised. She seems to hear more in that word, she seems to remember something. Her arms fall to her sides, and her eyes seem to brighten. She takes Amelia in.

It's the first time she's really looked at her, she thinks. Really sees her.

"Awesome."

Arizona grins, "Let's hear it."

* * *

Arizona agrees that it's _awesome_ , and Amelia spends all night working on it. She stares at scans until her eyes grow heavy and red. She stares until her eyes burn, until she needs to blink to let the tears out.

She's troubled and her brother's gone. Owen hasn't called and she hasn't spoken to Meredith. Her life has been this tumor. Whisks of blonde hair, sad blue eyes, and a tumor.

She thinks she needs a break, but then something clicks. And staring deeply into Herman's catastrophic tumor, she realizes that she's found it.

She checks her phone in excitement. 7 missed calls from Meredith, two texts from Meredith inquiring of her whereabouts, a text from Arizona - _Tomorrow, I'm so damn tired_ , and 3% left. It's 5 AM. She throws the heap of clothes she gathered for today in an overnight bag and grabs her jacket.

* * *

Alex is annoyed when he lets her inside, but she only grins back at him in greeting.

"Mer was talking about you last night, where'd you disappear?" he asks. She feels bad for a moment, for abandoning her sister-in-law after her brother's disappearance. She knows Meredith mostly goes to Alex in her time of need. She can tell she's interrupted something when she observes his slightly sagging pants and ruffled shirt.

"Lab," she claims, "Where's Arizona?"

He seems surprised, "In her room."

She moves past him as he shuts the door and waits for him to point her in the right direction. As she walks, she feels her heart thumping in excitement - _it's here_ , she thinks. _Finally._ With little regard to privacy, she opens the door and sees strands of yellow hair pillowed on the bed. The sleeping woman is bundled in her blanket. She shuts the door behind her.

Now, she doesn't know what to do. She looks at the clothes thrown carelessly on the floor and the prosthetic leg propped up against the night stand. She did have a late night, didn't she?

She feels a little awkward now.

"Arizona," she calls.

She doesn't stir.

Amelia hears footsteps from upstairs and walks over to the bed, shaking the sleeping woman awake.

She dodges the slap she receives in response and tries again. A head pops out from underneath the sheets.

The doorbell rings. Footsteps resound down the stairs. The house seems lively.

"Oh," Arizona murmurs. Her sleepy eyes widen and she looks annoyed. She turns away, "God, I thought you were Alex."

"What?" Amelia asks, "Why?" She is on her knees now, slumping over the blonde, staring at her exposed collar bone. Her skin is pale and only slightly freckled. "You sleep naked?"

Wide awake, Arizona protectively pulls the sheets over her. "I was tired."

"So you slept naked?"

"I just didn't feel like putting anything on."

"Didn't get lucky instead?" Amelia grins, recalling tales from med school. Arizona narrows her eyes.

"No," she retorts. She seems to get comfortable and leans back on the bed. "Why are you here?"

Amelia checks her phone. 1%. 6AM. She has to be in the hospital at 7.

"Breakthrough," she claims. "Thought you'd like to know?"

Arizona sits up in surprise. The sheet falls only slightly. More of the collar bone. Pale, slightly freckled. A little flushed when the moment hits.

She's been into these kinds of people lately.

"Let me see!"

Amelia turns to her bag and takes out her iPad, briefly going through the scans. She hands it over to Arizona and unbuckles her belt.

"What are you doing?"

"Changing," Amelia says. "I didn't get a chance to, yet."

"Oh," the blonde says, and returns her attention to the iPad.

They hear murmuring when Amelia takes off her shirt, and the door knob turns as she picks up the fresh one.

"Amelia-" Meredith starts. But then she stops and looks at Arizona, surprised. She looks at Amelia now, taking in her exposed upper torso. "Seriously?" she asks, narrowing her eyes.

"No-" Arizona starts.

"Totally not what you think," Amelia continues.

Meredith shuts the door. She hears fading footsteps as the front door slams.

Arizona falls back onto the bed. "Dammit, Amelia."

"Well," she says, "what a shame."


	2. Chapter 2

"Going up- _up_?" she asks, as the elevator doors shut. "That never happens."

Puzzled, Arizona smiles uncertainly. She can't tell if it's a joke. This Shepherd is quirky. Funny. Kind of refreshing. "What do you mean?"

"No one goes up from the basement," Amelia explains as if it's common knowledge. "Well, no one goes to the basement at all," she clarifies.

"Well, isn't that where your hideout is?" she grins.

"Excuse me, Arizona," Amelia retorts, " _my_ hideout? You're the one that got me involved by throwing my name out there." Her tone is more playful than accusing.

"Okay, fine," she acquiesces, " _our_ hideout."

She feels strange when she says it, and almost wants to take it back. She hasn't said _our_ in a very long time. She can't remember when last she said _our_ without it hurting. Without it being loaded. Without it being tainted. _Our_ house. _Our_ marriage. _Our_ divorce.

This _our_ isn't so heavy. She likes this _our_. It's like _our_ child, almost–the _our_ she actually likes, the _our_ that is unconditionally pure, the one that makes her happy. But this one is different. It's light and free and secretive in a calming way.

"I had a hideout," Arizona confesses, "in Hopkins. Library basement. I stole the keys and snuck in and stayed there when I wanted to be alone and study." She laughs, "It was filled with so much of my crap."

It is nice to have it again, she thinks. The brunette turns to her and blinks in reply. She smirks and gives her that sly look that she finds herself slowly growing accustomed to. It's almost inviting, the way she does it, the way her eyes glow with amusement, the way her lips look before they widen into a smile.

"Cause no one goes there?" Amelia asks.

"Yeah."

"Well," she says, turning her gaze away from Arizona, "I thought about going there." She admits, "A lot, actually."

The elevator chimes as it reaches the first floor, but it is not their stop. Meredith and Callie get on instead, and they both step back to allow them entry.

Arizona's heart races. They both seem stiff, as if caught in a private conversation. Amelia grins, "Hey!"

Her eyes meet Callie's. She sees a smile form on her face before it quickly drops. Like she acted before remembering. Callie does that, Arizona thinks, acts before she remembers.

She wants to think that Callie's instant reaction to her is a smile.

She turns around. Her back to Arizona. Arizona leans against the rail and instinctively shuffles closer to the funny Shepherd. She almost feels the desire to grip her lab coat. It's a funny desire. The funny Shepherd makes her feel like doing funny things.

"Hi," Meredith says, and greets her sister-in-law with a mostly blank stare. She doesn't look at Arizona before she turns around.

The elevator chimes again, and they both get off.

Arizona sighs heavily when the door shuts. She feels Amelia's gaze on her.

"Don't be so nervous," she says, "it's not even true."

"That's not the point!" Arizona shoots back.

Amelia is too laid back, she thinks.

"What's the point, then?" Amelia asks, and she can feel the concern in her gaze.

"I just don't want any misunderstandings," she explains.

* * *

The next time Amelia finds her, she is perusing an article Herman left to her in her absence. The margins are small and limited, and she can't quite make out the writing.

The basement is quiet. It's big and vacant, and incredibly quiet, yet she doesn't feel at ease. It is nothing like the library basement at Hopkins. There are memories here. They aren't her own memories, but they're memories of a time where she hadn't existed.

A time when she was not present.

_"I lived in the hospital basement," Callie tells her._

_"You lived in the basement?" she echoes, in surprise._

_They are sharing a simple dinner when Callie tells her the old news._

_She is learning more about her every day. She is in love with her. She still struggles to let her know. She can't think of the right time._

_Callie laughs, "It was such a long time ago." She feels Callie's foot brush against her thigh. She is more flirtatious than reflective._

_"When?" she wants to know._

_The dinner is forgotten as Callie leans into her._

_"When I used to dance in my underwear."_

She is frustrated. She slams the journal shut and leans back in her chair.

"Well, you're sunshine this afternoon," she hears.

She watches as Amelia grins and sheds her lab coat, placing a plate of cafeteria food in front of her. The salad is withered and soggy. She frowns in dismay.

"Sorry," Amelia offers. "I was chatting."

"With Meredith?" Arizona queries, popping a small tomato into her mouth.

"No," she says, settling in a chair next to her. Arizona feels her eyes drift to a spot just below her neck. "Owen."

"Oh," she watches for a moment as Amelia stares at her, "what?" She looks down.

She is surprised when Amelia reaches out and traces her collar bone. Her fingertip is soft and slightly cold and incredibly foreign to her skin. She shivers.

She hasn't been touched in a while.

"What are you doing?"

"Your clavicle is kind of pointy, isn't it?"

"What?" she asks, "Pointy?"

"Defined, then," Amelia determines, pulling her hand away. She seems slightly flustered, yet collected in her gaze. It's almost as if she wasn't expecting to do what she did. She looks away. "Yeah, yeah," she continues, "I was talking to Owen. Got carried away."

"Surgery?" Arizona inquires, slightly enchanted by this peculiar woman.

"No," Amelia says, "Other stuff." And she doesn't want to explain.

"Oh," the blonde says. She remembers the news of Amelia's addiction. It came as a surprise, though she certainly did not consider it. She heard from others, and apparently, there was to be a board meeting on it. She didn't go, it resolved itself. There were nasty rumors - ones she did not pay heed to. She never judged people based on simple rumors, she always judged them based on what she saw and what she knew.

She doesn't judge, and Amelia doesn't talk about it. Amelia doesn't share much about it.

And Arizona suddenly remembers that this–right now– _this_ is all for Herman.

"What's this?" Amelia asks, picking up the journal that Herman left her.

But she doesn't want the shift in conversation. She doesn't want the impersonal. She is sick of it, and Amelia seems unsure. She is tired of the impersonal, she decides.

"You know," she starts, poking her fork into a soggy tomato. She eyes it skeptically, "Callie used to live in the basement."

"She did?"

"It was her hideout, too."

"Oh," Amelia says, " _Oh_ ," she considers, "I'm sorry, Arizona. I didn't-"

"No, no," she quickly interrupts. This place isn't the problem. Not all the time. Not when Amelia is here with her. "I just," she starts, but she is unsure, "I just wanted to tell you."

To share, she wants to add, but she resists.

She is sure of one thing, that the expression she will receive will be one of confusion, or pity, or dismay. _I'm sorry your marriage is broken._ She should have said something else, she thinks.

But she is surprised when Amelia smiles in understanding, when she grins and slaps her hand on the table, and tells Arizona about the time she sobered up in a hot tub and felt shriveled for days and vowed to never set foot in one ever again.

* * *

 _I'm coming now_ , Arizona texts her after surgery.

 _No, come to my office,_ Amelia replies.

_I have to get the scans. Plus the journals._

_No forget about that… just come to my office!_

The exclamation points do her in as she makes her way to Amelia Shepherd's office, frowning when she finds the door is locked. She checks her watch and knocks impatiently.

"Come in," she hears, and lets herself inside.

The room is cluttered with boxes and scans that have fallen off the walls. It is dark, and bleak, and smells of books and withered journals. She looks to the smug brunette who only grins at her with glee.

"What is this?" she asks.

"My office."

Arizona rolls her eyes, "Clearly." She shuts the door behind her.

"I moved everything up here," Amelia explains, and moves closer when she doesn't. She feels hesitant.

"But what about-"

"It doesn't have to be there," Amelia says. She takes her hand and Arizona can feel the coolness and softness of her fingertips. She places a key in her palm. "Here's the key."

Arizona laughs. Amelia's hand feels hot, and the metal feels cool between their palms. "You use a key? We have ID cards."

"This is for you," she said, grasping her hand tighter.

Arizona understands, "I liked the idea of having a hideout, though."

"It is. It's my hideout," Amelia smiles, "now it's yours, too."

Arizona beams back, she can't resist. "Okay."

But Amelia doesn't let go of her hand, and Arizona can't seem to pull away. The metal turns hot from both their skins, and it seems to spread throughout her body. They are silent, and the room seems to resound in its silence as Amelia's eyes draw back to her clavicle. It all makes Arizona feel dizzy. She pulls away before her hand shakes.

"Thanks.." Arizona says softly.

"Sure."

A page leaves Arizona standing there in the middle of Amelia Shepherd's office. She smells something else and determines that the scent is her morning shampoo which the neurosurgeon used to take a quick shower this morning.

The floor is littered with boxes, papers, and candy wrappers. It reminds her of medical school. It reminds her of a haven she once had all to herself.

She digs through her bag and pulls out a ring of keys. It is a personal collection she keeps by her side: library basement, 502, car, murder house, Grey house.

She adds Amelia's office key to the set.


	3. Chapter 3

" _Hey,_ " she calls out to her, as though she hasn't been paying attention this whole time.

It would be partly true, she thinks, but mostly a lie, because she _has_ been paying attention to her. She's been listening to the light sound of her breathing, only disturbed by the sporadic grunts of annoyance she makes every so often, which Amelia has determined to be habits of frustration. She listens to the huffs, and deep sighs, and, if it gets quiet enough, even the licking of her lips. She can hear it in the comfortable silence of their hideout. She's grown used to it, and she likes it. It's peaceful; comforting.

It's Arizona.

"What?" Amelia replies, but her eyes are still peering into the nearly-finished pint of ice cream she's been consuming for the past twenty minutes.

Amelia hears another grunt from the blonde accompanied with the creaking of her chair as she leans back against it, the work in front of her quickly forgotten. She seems to always be displeased when, during rare moments, Amelia doesn't give her the full attention she seems to ask for. "That's no good for you, you know," she continues pointedly.

Spoon in mouth, Amelia looks up from her cup and into tired, bright blue eyes. "I know," she grins, and Arizona frowns when she reaches out and offers the cup to her. "Want some?" She says it playfully - and it always comes out before she's aware of it. She could be less playful, she thinks, but it seems to become habit. She can't shake the feeling of wanting to tease this woman, of wanting to comfort her in some inexplicable way.

She reminds her of herself, just a little bit. Maybe it's because she's always with her. Or maybe it's the perpetual emptiness that seems to haunt her.

She should change her tone, she thinks. Be more serious. Arizona seems serious.

She is surprised when Arizona grins slyly back, says yes, and takes the cup from her. Amelia widens her eyes, but doesn't have a chance to say anything before Arizona takes the spoon, and slips it out of her mouth and into her own. "Mine now," the blonde triumphantly declares.

"That's gross," Amelia claims. "I had another spoon."

Arizona looks into the cup, her voice dismissive as she asks, "Were you planning on sharing?"

"Well, I have another pint," she explains.

"Seriously?" Arizona asks, her eyes on Amelia again. "That's _so_ bad. All you've been eating is ice cream," she notices. "Herman gets these, too."

"The flavors are so weird," Amelia claims, "So I want to try them all."

"Binge eating is _not_ attractive," the blonde retorts, slipping the spoon into her mouth, and there's more to the simple claim than her voice reveals. It's shown in her eyes, the way they dim, the way her dimples fall only slightly. It could be a simple phrase, it could be a simple statement or a gesture that then becomes a reminder of a time so long ago. She says nothing to indicate sadness, but it shows in her voice, in the way her face changes expression. And Amelia sees this.

Simplicity seems to remind her of things that have long ago died, Amelia notices.

"I haven't had sex in a long time," she blurts out.

"What?" Arizona asks, her eyes surprised as they fall on Amelia's.

"I dunno," the neurosurgeon shrugs, "I haven't had sex. I _don't_ have sex. So I don't have to worry about ice cream consumption. It's all good." She winks and repeats herself, _It's all good_ , slumping back into her chair as she watches Arizona, who only watches her with wide, curious eyes that are suddenly very bright again.

Arizona laughs and slips the spoon back into her mouth, savoring the taste. Saying nothing, but only watching.

"Have you?" Amelia asks, interrupting the quiet, but only because the silence of the room and the intensity of the blonde's stare is unnerving and suddenly makes her want to know.

"What?" Arizona asks, her eyes still fixed on Amelia's. It's too intent, she thinks, too much, so she looks away reflexively, settling for staring at the computer's screen instead. Hazel eyes draw away as blue eyes follow them. "What?" she asks again, titling her head.

Amelia's eyes draw back to her. "Had sex," she says. "I mean, since Callie," she adds, wondering if it's okay to mention that.

But Arizona's expression doesn't change, rather, her eyes seem to grow more curious. More bright. Sly.

And somehow flirtatious.

"No."

* * *

He is nice.

His smile is wide, and the light wrinkles on his face rise when his lips stretch out and into a smile. His eyes are bright too, she thinks. Steely, though somehow appealing. They have a dignified glow.

Their lunches are light. He's hardly ever around the cafeteria. Recently, he's been texting her to join him as though she is his only excuse to go anywhere.

They don't settle for drinks after work as he's aware of her situation, though once they shared a small dinner together in a quiet restaurant across town.

She's been flirty with him. This is how she lets it out. It's filling, this interaction. It allows her to blow off the steam, to talk about her experiences and situation to someone who is not a part of it, but a part of something else. It eases the strong, unsettling feelings she gets when she's around Arizona. She lets these complicated feelings out through flirtation.

And it's easy to flirt with him. The bewildered look on his face is enough to make her continue.

Plus, he's nice.

Not too complicated. Though he's got that darkness.

But everyone has it, she thinks. Briefly, bight blue eyes come to mind.

He smiles, scratches his chin. He's recently shaved, she notices.

She likes talking with him. He gets it.

"I understand that. Back when I served…" and he trails off. She is interested. He is appealing. Nice.

But then she's distracted by a whisk of blonde hair that catches her eye in the midst of his intense story. She meets her eyes for a second. Arizona smiles and stops, lifts her hand to wave. It's the look Amelia gives her that makes her turn away so suddenly.

It's that look, Amelia can tell. Because she knows it, too. That look, it's like she is invading.

Interrupting something too intimate.

So Arizona walks away.

* * *

She doesn't go looking for her. Instead, she goes to surgery. She is swamped with them, and hasn't seen Arizona since. She's beginning to talk to Meredith again, who, more than once has inquired of her relationship to Arizona. She laughs and dismisses it. And then Meredith asks about Owen.

There is passing tension that arises when Callie enters the OR. Meredith and Callie speak to each other like the oldest of friends. Amelia says nothing, but she is surprised when Callie mentions a woman from last night.

A one-night stand.

Her hands don't fail her, though, and she can feel Callie's gaze on her. It's not triumphant, or curious, or intent; it's simply worried.

A worried, watchful gaze.

And then she asks about Owen, too. And again, Amelia laughs.

Later, she talks to him some more. She finds her hands trembling.

Callie asked him about Amelia, too.

"So," he asks, "Dinner tonight?"

"Not tonight."

* * *

By the end of the night, she is tired and drowsy, and a little more than annoyed when she finds the door to her own office locked. She flashes her ID card and enters, and sees another whisk of blonde hair as Arizona jumps from her seat and turns around, trying to look busy.

She's not very subtle, Amelia thinks.

Her shoulders are shaking, and her usual fluttery blonde hair seems to settle pathetically on her shoulders. Her back is stern; she is trying for a dignified pose. But it seems weak.

Hurt.

Sad.

"Callie slept with someone else," Arizona says, not turning to her. She doesn't move from the door, though she wants to see her face. She wants to see her eyes, she wants to brighten them. She wants to fix it.

"And I'm mad, I'm mad," she rambles. "I'm _so_ mad, I-" Arizona shakes, "And I shouldn't have a reason to be."

"You should," Amelia justifies. "You have a reason to be," she continues, though she hasn't talked to Arizona about her marriage at all.

The blonde only laughs weakly, her shoulders slumping lower.

"Aren't you going to fix your marriage?" Amelia asks.

"My marriage is over."

 _Fix it_ , she is tempted to say. But she knows she won't mean it.

Instead, she asks, "Do you want to have dinner?"

"No."

"Get a drink?"

Arizona laughs, but there is no effort behind it. She knows Amelia can't have drinks. "Amelia."

"Talk about it."

"Can you leave me alone?" she asks. "Please?"

"Right."

So she stands there and stares at her back, saying nothing, but only watching.

* * *

Later that night, she knocks on the door of her brother's trailer. Owen opens it, clad in a towel, and she pulls his wet neck towards her and kisses him hard.

And when the door slams shut behind them, she feels a hard thumping in her chest and lets the emptiness in her heart be filled, if only momentarily.

She closes her eyes. The growing stubble of his chin scratches her mouth.

She wants to be sly, she wants to be flirty, she wants it all.

She wants to fix it all, but she doesn't know how.

And when it's all over, before she falls asleep, she finds herself staring at the roof of her brother's trailer, wondering how she got here.

She hears Owen's breathing. It's heavy and pleased and uninterrupted.

It's all over now, and she feels empty again. She wants to check her phone, wants to go over to Alex's and barge into Arizona's room. Anything but stay still in this bed, alone with her thoughts. She wants to do something again. She wants to feel filled again.

So she shuts her eyes and dreams of those bright blue ones.

Curious. Bright. Flirtatious.

Sad.


	4. Chapter 4

She sits in Amelia Shepherd's office - _their_ hideout, and ponders over her situation. The office is empty, and vaguely smells of Amelia, though she hasn't really figured out what kind of scent the neurosurgeon has.

Arizona has two immediate objectives: figure out a way to possibly save April's baby, and fix Herman's brain tumor.

The latter seems to be going well in terms of research, but the former isn't doing too well. Jackson was enraged, nervous, and frantic, while April simply broke down. She remembers it all too well.

 _Fix it!_ _You need to fix it!_

She needs to fix too many things, she thinks.

But Herman could fix that far better than she ever could. Only, she's dying. Amelia has figured out a way to remove Herman's tumor. But it will be extensive. It will be incognito. No one knows. It's too complicated.

And she hasn't told Herman yet.

She hasn't told anyone.

It's just her secret. With Amelia. Like their hideout. Established solely for this reason.

Callie slept with someone else. She cared for a while, and she still does sometimes, but ultimately, it doesn't matter very much. She realizes this. Why should it? Why should she be sad and alone while Callie isn't? Callie is rediscovering herself.

She is, too.

Callie is not on her mind much.

There are too many things left to occupy her mind.

She needs to tell Herman, too.

Frustrated, she kicks a box carelessly placed on the floor next to Amelia's computer. Why does the office suddenly have so many more boxes? She ponders over this, and decides to kick the box harder this time, but with her prosthetic leg so she doesn't damage it. She doesn't want to do damage.

She's all about damage control.

She hasn't seen Amelia in a while. A few days. The last time she saw her, she kept her back towards her as she inquired about her feelings, and she only gave her cold words in return.

She kicks it again - staccato thumps. It becomes more of a tapping. A translation of her pondering and idleness. The room is silent and the computer's hard drive only continues to buzz.

She wants the perfect silence in exchange for this unsettling one. The silence of another in her company, another in her presence. Amelia.

She needs to talk to Amelia.

Where is Amelia?

Did she not want to be around her anymore? Was she too cold? Too closed?

Too much?

Maybe it's the way she stares. Most times, she finds herself staring. She looks away when Amelia does it first, but she finds herself staring even more now. But she only does it because she likes Amelia's smile. And her suggestive grins. And her winks. And that smug look she gets sometimes.

Maybe she shouldn't look at her so much - so intently, as though she's searching for something. Is she? Maybe she is. There is more behind those hazel eyes, she thinks, more behind that gleeful grin.

She just wants to know about her, that's all.

She likes being her friend.

She checks her phone and looks at her messages to Amelia.

The last one from the neurosurgeon says: _I guess I don't want to pry, but text me if you want to talk. Okay?_

She never did reply. She kept silent. She was frustrated then, but she's okay now.

Maybe the silence they share isn't a good thing, after all.

She looks at the box again, her foot has stilled against it. The fragility of it reminds her of the boxes she has stacked in the guest room at Callie's house. Her house. Their house. Whatever, she thinks.

She looks at her phone again and sends a message to Amelia.

_Hey. Are you around? I need some help moving stuff._

* * *

But she receives no reply.

She is done for the day. Herman is out and Graham is still busy with his own rounds. As stupid as he may seem, he can be reliable when necessary.

Callie is still in surgery. She can move boxes now.

Exiting the hospital, she decides to phone Amelia.

It rings twice before she picks up. There is stifled giggling accompanied with a strange drone in the background. She hears something fall and sheets being ruffled. A creaking of a bed she vaguely recalls.

There is more muffled murmuring before she hears, "Hello?"

"Hey, Amelia."

"Arizona!" she hears. It sounds excited, yet somehow forced. Exaggerated. Unprepared. "What's up?"

"Where are you?" she asks. She inquires before she can stop herself, before she can remember that it isn't really her business to know where Amelia has gone.

"What?" the neurosurgeon asks as though she's misheard her.

"Where are you? Meredith's?"

She waits for a reply, but the drone of the phone connection already seems hesitant to her ears. "Sorta," Amelia finally answers. "More like… Derek's."

She hears a murmur in the background. The voice is deep and heavy, and seems to disrupt the phone connection. She wants to hang up.

"Did you get my text?"

"I did," Amelia says. She waits before asking, "Move stuff where?"

"From Callie's to Alex's."

She hears a laugh that sounds delightfully dubious. Amelia's laugh. "Get your own place."

"Says you," Arizona quickly rejoins. "Half of that house is mine."

"Then don't call it Callie's," she says simply. There always seems to be reasoning in her tone, as playful as it may appear.

"Whatever," the blonde grumbles, suddenly frustrated with the conversation. "Are you going to help me or not?"

"Yep," Amelia says, and her voice is suddenly light and free, and almost harmonic to her ears. She likes that voice. Its slyness, its exuberance. "Meet you there? Text me the address."

Arizona hears a groan of protest as Amelia says this, and it seems to come from the background. It's the same deep, hard voice from before.

"Yeah, sure," she says, and she hangs up before Amelia can say anything else.

She stands there outside of the hospital, her neck suddenly cold from the strong wind of the usually pleasant city.

She's interrupted something.

* * *

"Your house is cute," Amelia grins at her as she steps out of her car. She shuts the door and narrows her eyes at the brunette's smugness, keys jingling in her hand.

"You got here fast."

"Yeah, I was getting ready to leave anyway."

She doesn't want to ask from where, so she walks past the younger Shepherd and opens the lock to the door. The knob seems flimsy as she goes to turn it, and she steps inside.

It feels foreign.

"This is weird," she suddenly determines. "Maybe I shouldn't have come here."

"What?" Amelia asks, perplexed. "Why?"

"I just," Arizona starts, "I just haven't been here in a while." She stands there and feels uncertain, unwilling to take a step forward. She hears a heavy sigh behind her, but does nothing.

She suddenly wants to turn around and leave, but she is silenced by a sudden pull of her arm. The door slams shut behind her and the arm around her own tightens and pulls her forward.

It feels warm and confident in its refusal to let go.

"Come on, do I need to walk you?" Amelia asks, her voice hard. "Pull you?" She asks again, her hand wrapping around Arizona's upper arm. Her fingers only graze the fabric of her coat, but Arizona can feel the warmth of her fingertips, the careful consideration behind them. She seems suddenly frustrated. "What will it take you to step inside?"

"What-"

"Where's your room, then?" Amelia decidedly queries. "I'll just pull you there."

"Amelia-" Arizona warns.

"Shut up," the brunette retorts. Arizona looks into her eyes - they are livid and bright, and seemingly tired of something.

"Okay," Arizona says. Amelia doesn't loosen her grip, though, and Arizona proceeds forward and into the guest room.

They say nothing as they step inside, and Arizona feels the coldness of the room. It seems untouched, unopened, and hardly entered. A junk room.

There are mostly clothes in piles scattered across the bed and boxes aligned on the floors. Sofia's and Callie's. There aren't many boxes, though, and Amelia seems surprised.

"Just these?" Amelia asks, her eyes falling on the boxes.

"Yeah."

She laughs, "You just needed help with _this?_ "

Arizona laughs right back at her, her voice feels lighter now. She feels Amelia's grip on her arm grow tighter. "I needed help with a lot more than this."

* * *

They are sitting on the floor of her room at Alex's house, boxes scattered around them as they share drinks and snacks. Arizona has a beer while Amelia settles for flavored sparkling water. They use the boxes as makeshift pillows and lean against the hard surface.

They mostly giggle over hospital gossip and strange staff behaviors, but then Arizona decides to mention that Owen wasn't in today, either.

"Yeah, I was with him," Amelia informs her.

Arizona feels uneasy, "Oh, no wonder." She doesn't know what to say.

Hazel eyes watch her carefully before telling her, "I slept with Owen." Her voice comes out harder, and even she seems surprised by it.

"Oh," she says it almost too fast. Amelia's gaze doesn't fall. She seems to be searching for something in her eyes, so the blonde looks down at the snacks on the floor, carefully surveying the crackers laid out.

"I was with him yesterday, too."

"How was it?" Arizona asks, her eyes still perusing the state of the crackers.

"Okay," the neurosurgeon says, "I mean, he's nice."

She picks a cracker, and takes a bite as Amelia continues to watch her. She swallows hard. It feels rocky in her throat. She drinks her beer.

"Yeah," Arizona agrees.

"I don't think we're a thing, though," Amelia says, her own eyes drawn to the crackers now. She picks one up, carefully watches it, and looks back at Arizona. "Not exclusive, I mean."

"Oh?"

"Yep," she smiles now, and takes a bite of the cracker while she watches her.

But Arizona only stands up and turns around, flipping the cover open to the box she was just leaning against.

"I should get unpacking."

* * *

When Amelia leaves, Arizona watches her retreating form until she gets into her car. When she drives away, she shuts the front door quietly and leans her head against it, feeling flushed and slightly annoyed.

"You two have a fight cus she's banging Owen?" she hears.

"Shut up, Alex."

"I mean, if you want to bang her, just tell her you want to bang her."

"I don't want to _bang_ her."

"Yeah, okay," he says in disbelief, a beer in his hand as he leans against the wall, narrowing his eyes at her.

"What?"

"Have you seen the way you _stare_ at each other? Like, from an outsider's view?"

"No," Arizona says, "And I don't want to. We're just working on a case together."

"Uh, so?"

"So we share a secret."

"Like, _I secretly want to bang you_?"

"Will you stop?"

"I'm just saying," he shrugs, "she _is_ hot."

Arizona clasps her hands behind her back and leans back against the front door, watching Alex grin smugly at her. Her heart feels light again, and seems to resound in her ears as she thinks back to that searching gaze.

"She is," Arizona agrees.


	5. Chapter 5

"D, do you need a ride?" he asks her quickly, struggling to get his shirt on before she is out of the door. It's his only white shirt, though, and he's barely dressed even before she makes it to the trailer's door, which opens with a sudden and horrendous creak, something she hasn't noticed before, but is now beginning to.

"No, my car is parked right here."

He finally pops his head through his shirt's collar and flies up, hurrying over to her as she makes her way down the creaky stairs.

"Are you sure?" he asks. "I can drive you. You can come by later then, and pick it up."

Amelia laughs, "I'm not waiting until you get off work!" She stops to turn around and look at him. She finds him funny in this moment; him, only in his white shirt and briefs, leaning against the doorway of the trailer, one arm bracing it open while the other grips the ledge. "Besides," she reasons, "I have surgery in 30 minutes."

He drops his eyes shyly to the floor, as if in consideration, and looks back up at her. "So you're not coming tonight."

"Probably not."

"You say that and then show up at my door, anyway," he lectures. "I have no way of knowing."

"Well, consider me impulsive," she grins. She edges away from him now, with slower steps, still watching him as he stands at the doorway. It seems as though he could leap out if he wanted to. He doesn't say anything this time, so she turns around to leave.

But he calls to her, "Amelia?"

She looks at him.

He waits before asking, "So you won't come?"

"I won't."

* * *

The last thing she expects to walk into is Arizona changing in her office. _Their_ office.

She is beginning to like the sound of _their_ , if only for this, she thinks, as she watches Arizona's flustered expression. Amelia says nothing, though, and instead stares at her pale, lightly freckled bra-clad chest. She only finds Arizona staring back at her.

The blonde doesn't seem too flustered, though, and she only smirks at her when she slips her scrub shirt on.

"You wear nothing underneath, huh?" Amelia grins.

"I wear a bra," Arizona shoots back.

Now she seems more flustered. As if she's remembered something. Now that words have been spoken. She sees her pale cheeks grow slightly red and briefly wonders if her body feels hot.

"I need to tell Herman," she says.

Amelia continues to stand at the doorway, only shutting the door behind her.

"Today?"

Arizona stays where she is. "Soon."

They share a look before the other woman's eyes darken, and she stares at the floor beneath her, losing herself to her own thoughts.

"Don't look so sad."

"I'm not sad," Arizona tells her. She lifts her gaze and her eyes begin to search the room.

"What are you looking for?"

"My lab coat."

"You should, probably, you know," Amelia starts, and now she walks closer to her, "move."

"Huh?" Arizona asks, looking back at her. She slowly steps away as Amelia draws closer to her. The neurosurgeon wonders what kind of look she's giving her. She can't even tell. Her eyes draw to her bare, pale arms, and she can see the muscle indentations on her forearms as she crosses her them in front of her, as if shielding some part of herself.

"I mean, you should move around when looking for something," Amelia laughs, taken aback by her own voice. It's low and sultry and does a little more than just surprise her. "Common sense, you know?"

"Well," Arizona retorts quickly, drawing further away from her. She spots her coat behind the computer desk and goes to pick it up. "Don't say it so strangely."

"How is it strange?"

"The way you're acting is a little strange to me," she says. Her eyes refuse to meet Amelia's, even as she puts on her lab coat.

"How am I acting?"

The blonde sighs, "I don't know, Amelia."

"You're upset," Amelia determines.

"I'm just tired," Arizona explains. "And nervous. And frustrated."

"Herman?" she inquires.

"Herman."

"Is that all?"

Arizona meets her gaze now. She can't tell what she's thinking from her eyes alone. For the first time, it seems, she can't.

"That's all."

Amelia feels herself growing hotter, as though the room has suddenly obstructed something. She feels nervous. In thrall by this woman, almost. But she wants to be.

"I'm here to help you. I'll be here if you need me," she says. Her voice is soft and low.

Arizona smiles at her, and it seems as soft as her own voice. "I need to tell her myself."

"Are you sure?"

"This is the only thing I can do right," Arizona says. And it makes Amelia remember what they're here for. What this is for. But Arizona is more than that, she thinks. More than a career, more than a fellowship. More than sad blue eyes. She is more than what she thinks she is.

"I think you're doing a lot of things right."

Arizona looks at her, her eyes are wide and they seem vulnerable to Amelia.

"You should want more," she tells her. "Step up. You deserve more."

"Amelia…"

"Call me Amy, won't you?" she requests. "Amy."

"Amy?" Arizona asks, and she says it as though sampling the sound of it on the tip of her tongue. The word comes out uncertainly, but Amelia likes the sound of it, the harmony behind it. She says it again, "Amy," and now there is more assurance behind it, more confidence.

Amelia smiles. She wants to take her hand and pull her with her - somewhere, anywhere - just so she can hear it in different tones. She wants to hear Arizona say her nickname in anger. In frustration. In soft complaint. In happiness.

In almost every way possible.

She just wants to hear it again.

"I like the sound of it... coming from you," Amelia tells her.

Arizona smiles. She looks confident and bright. It's such a little thing, such a small thing, but she likes it too.

"Me too, Amy."

* * *

She spends lunch with Arizona, who now calls her _Amy_ , and it is pleasant and lovely, and she seems to forget everyone else in her life. She is almost tempted to have dinner with her, but Meredith intervenes before they make their way out, and requests that she come _home_ for dinner, emphasizing a word that has always unnerved Amelia.

So now she sits with Meredith - meal finished and wine glasses out. She settles again, for flavored sparkling water, raspberry being her favorite. She traces the rim with her finger as Meredith talks about her estranged relationship with her brother.

"I'm sorry my brother's an ass," she offers, when she is sure Meredith is finished. But the woman does not seem moved.

"I already knew that," Meredith claims. "But hey, I'm glad you're kind of listening."

"I _was_ listening."

"You were _not_ listening to me."

Amelia grows annoyed, "I _am._ "

"You do this to Addison too?"

" _Meredith_ ," Amelia warns. "Don't make this about anything else. You're just as much of my sister as Addison is, okay?"

Meredith seems to collect herself and cools down, picking up the dirty dishes from the table. Amelia stands to grab her coat.

"You're leaving?"

"I have plans."

"With who?"

"Owen," she tells her. Though she hasn't planned anything at all. Really, she is simply tempted to knock on Alex's door and drag Arizona with her to the bar. Or somewhere. But then she remembers that she's at the hospital, and is suddenly tempted to work on the case again. She's been faltering, she thinks. "Actually, I need to prepare for a big surgery."

Meredith seems to ignore the latter half and quickly inquires, "So you slept with Owen?" but not before correcting herself, " _Cristina's_ Owen?"

Amelia scoffs, but confirms, "Yes, I slept with Owen." She slips on her coat.

"And you slept with Arizona before that?" she finally asks.

Amelia waits for her to add more this time, but she doesn't, and it makes her scoff even harder.

"No, Meredith!" she exclaims, suddenly. "But what if I did?"

"Amelia-" Meredith warns.

" _Cristina's_ Owen? How come you didn't say _Callie's_ Arizona? They're not together any more than Cristina and Owen are," she considers. "People don't belong to others."

"That's not what I meant."

"Your consideration for others is very self-centered," Amelia shoots, and she suddenly feels bad when Meredith flinches from the words.

"Look, I don't want to fight," Meredith says, her voice softer this time, "You know that's not what I meant."

"I'm sorry," Amelia says, "I should go."

"Do you like him?"

"I do."

Meredith seems satisfied, and only watches her as she moves towards the door. Amelia stops and considers her words, staring at the wooden door in front of her.

"I like her too."

"What?" Meredith asks, her eyes surprised.

Amy fiddles with the doorknob, briefly testing its durability. She finally turns it and opens the door.

"Arizona," she says, "I like her too."


	6. Chapter 6

She is never surprised anymore when she finds Amy in their hideout with her face buried in scans and a sparkle in her eye. Amelia is never unnerved, never annoyed, and she always seems to find a glimmer in everything that she does, everything she investigates. Amy is like that, she thinks.

She likes it.

She's been noticing her little gestures, too. Like when she opens the door to the office and Amelia doesn't notice. She opens it very quietly, only for this reason. She opens it quietly so she can catch Amelia during her simplest moments. Amelia, at work. Amelia, brushing her dark hair back from obstructing her view. Amelia, chin on palm, and a pencil loosely hanging between two fingers in the other hand. Amy, looking serious and inquisitive, with her face scrunched up in concentration.

Amy eventually notices her, though, and that's when she grins. And it makes Arizona a little crazy, the way she does it. That sly look, and the way her eyes glow.

It almost kills her, the way her body heats up when Amelia looks at her like that.

She makes it a habit to draw away from her.

But she's not surprised this time, when Amy looks up at her and grins in the same way she always does. Though perhaps she seems a little more distracted now.

"How'd it go?" she inquires, returning her gaze to the outline she's been writing for the past day.

"Good, baby's fine," Arizona informs her, taking a seat beside her. Amelia smiles in acknowledgement.

"Glad to hear," she murmurs, still distracted by the outline.

Arizona leans back in her chair and briefly watches the younger Shepherd next to her.

"What's on your mind, Doctor Robbins?" she inquires without looking up.

Arizona smiles, "Nothing, Doctor Shepherd."

Arizona smiles wider when Amelia says nothing, and the neurosurgeon begins to tap her pencil against the table. "You're staring," she notes.

"I am."

"I have surgery soon," Amelia says, looking up at her now, "Gonna tell me what's on your mind?"

"I'll wait," the blonde says, simply.

Amy shrugs and stands to leave, stacking her papers neatly against the desk. Arizona doesn't move to give her space though, and her leg brushes against her knee as she moves to leave. The blonde is settled where she is, and only looks up at Amelia, who seems surprised by her behavior.

"What are you doing?"

"You should know," Arizona grins. Amy only gives her a blank expression, so she tells her, "I'm teasing you! It's your speciality." She briefly thinks that her behavior _is_ silly, and wonders what she's doing. Blocking her way so she can't leave. Is this flirting? Is that what she's trying to do?

"That's not my kind of teasing. I'm much better at it than you are," Amelia retorts, moving her hand to shove Arizona's leg away. She grips her knee firmly, and the blonde can feel the heat of her hand through the cloth. It makes her shiver. "What, is this a ticklish spot?" she asks with a grin on her face, gripping her knee tighter.

Arizona giggles, "Stop!"

"It is, isn't it?" she asks, laughing this time, and her hand slides up from her knee to grip her thigh.

"Amy!" Arizona protests, her voice changing from a giggle to something far breathier. She sucks in her breath and looks up at Amelia, who is leaning over her seat. Her hand seems to rest firmly on Arizona's thigh, and now she looks at her with dark eyes. She seems to be holding her own breath.

"What?" Arizona asks, when Amelia says nothing. Her stare is sultry and lustful, and Arizona can see it clearly in her eyes.

"What?" Amelia asks. She blinks and pulls her hand away. "Anyway," she says, clearing her throat, "I'll see you later."

"Okay."

When Amelia exits the room, she lets out a deep breath and brushes her hair back.

Her body feels hot.

* * *

She waits patiently for Amelia to leave for the day, but she's disappointed when she sees her talking with Owen at the front doors. He's still in his scrubs, though, and seemingly out of breath. He looks shy with his hands on his hips, but she stands at a distance and waits for Amy to finish.

They part as good friends would, it seems, and Amelia waves to Arizona when she sees her approaching.

"Sorry!" she says. "Wait long?"

"No," Arizona murmurs.

They exit the hospital together, and the cold wind makes Arizona wonder why she even waited for her. She probably is busy. She took her own car to work this morning. They've never arrived together.

But she tries, anyway.

"Are you free tomorrow?" she inquires.

"Well, I'm off work."

"Do you, uh, want to check out the Christmas market? It's by the seaport."

"What?" the neurosurgeon seems surprised, but she looks at Arizona with expectant eyes. "No scans? No studying?" Amelia grins.

"We could do that after…" the blonde murmurs, "I want to go see it. And buy gifts."

Amelia hums, it's a throaty sound that makes Arizona nervous. Aware. Almost self-conscious. It's teasing. "Forget it."

"No, no," Amelia says, "I'll go." She pulls out her phone, "Let me just cancel with Owen."

"What, really? You don't have to."

"It's fine."

"I don't want you to-"

"Arizona," she warns.

"Don't cancel because-"

"Arizona! Shut up! It's fine," she assures her, looking back at her phone. She quickly types a message and looks back at Arizona. "Besides, I want to."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

* * *

As Arizona waits at the parking lot for Amelia's arrival, she contemplates her choice of outfit. She thinks that she may have dressed too simply, or perhaps too casually. She chose plain black jeans and a red sweater. Though plain, it turns out to be a smart choice now that she thinks about it, since she seems rather unfazed by the wind. She smiles when she sees Amelia's car approach and waves at her to park in the spot next to her.

"What a pain," Amelia says when she exits her car, "Stupid traffic. We should have gone together."

"I could have picked you up." _Like a date_ , she thinks, and almost wants to blurt it out. Instead, she slips her hands into her pockets and watches as Amelia shivers next to her. The neurosurgeon is wearing a light, flimsy coat and a blouse underneath. She's dressed casually, as well.

It's dark out, and surprisingly cold. The seaside wind only seems to accentuate the cold air, she can practically see her breath with each exhale. However, the lights aligned along the seaport emit a deep, homely glow. The luminescent light seems to cast its shine everywhere, giving the night an enchanting feeling. She can hear carolers from a distance and light holiday music in the background.

"What are you looking for?"

"Something for Sofia," Arizona tells her. "She's been obsessed with Rudolph lately." She laughs, "My nose gets red in the cold sometimes, so she likes to joke that I'm a reindeer. It's cute."

"Oh, right," Amelia considers, "You have a daughter."

"I do," she says, and hurries to a stuffed animal toy stall. Her eyes light up at the selection and she hears Amy laugh behind her. She looks over to her with the intention to glare, but Amelia only watches her with her arms crossed and a delightful grin on her face. Arizona smiles back at her.

"Which one?" Arizona asks. Amelia trails behind her and surveys the various reindeer animals. She finally picks one up and turns it over carefully. "This one," she decides. "The nose turns red when it gets light."

After the purchase, Amelia trails slowly next to her, staring intently at the lights aligned along the port.

"You have a daughter," Amelia says, suddenly. "I saw her once. When I go to the daycare to see Bailey."

Arizona looks over at her. She seems to be lost in thought, as if carefully deciding something. But then she says, "I guess we still don't know a lot about each other, huh?"

"What?" Arizona asks, surprised.

"You should bring her sometime," Amy says, "to the office. I like kids."

She isn't sure what kind of look she is giving Amelia, but the younger Shepherd simply turns her head away and shrugs. "Never mind."

"I will," Arizona smiles.

From then on, they talk about Sofia and Zola while sharing customary drinks and sweets from the various stalls. And as they walk through the end of the market closer to the sea, Arizona can't help but notice Amelia's strange body movements.

"What's with you?" she asks.

"I-I'm _freezing_!" Amelia exclaims.

"It's not that cold," she murmurs dismissively, widening her eyes when she glances at the flushed skin of the shivering woman next to her. "You're so red!"

"Cus I'm cold! It's so cold over here!"

"But it's-"

"I _li-_ lived in .. in LA for a long," she trembles, stuttering over her words, " _long_ time, okay?"

Arizona only rolls her eyes, but another shiver prompts her to draw the other woman closer.

"Here," Arizona says, linking her arm around Amelia's. She only shivers in reply and ducks her head into the collar of her flimsy coat, burying her hands deeper into her pockets. Her sudden movement pulls Arizona's arm closer to her - almost in a tight lock. The blonde almost has the urge to put her hand into Amelia's pocket and find her cold, hidden hand. Amy moves in closer to her, and it is the first time that Arizona notices that Amelia is slightly shorter than her.

"Huh," she says. "You're short."

"Shut up!" Amelia exclaims, seemingly embarrassed by her height. "I'm like an inch shorter than you. And you're wearing boots."

Arizona laughs, "You need to get some winter clothes."

They walk now, to the end of the market just beside the sea, and stare at the distant lights in front of them. The wind is brisk and cold, and the Christmas lights behind them cast a glow over their backs.

"Aaaah," Amelia shivers. "It's really damn cold. This isn't helping."

"I've got a sweater on, so I'm warm," the blonde replies. "So is my coat. It's super warm."

The glare she receives from Amelia prompts her to unzip her coat and open it wide, as if in invitation.

"What?" Amelia asks, surprised at her sudden gesture.

"Get in."

"Seriously?"

"Okay," Arizona says, threatening to close her coat, "Freeze, then."

"No, wait!" Amelia says, hurrying over to her. She turns around and leans back against her. Arizona closes the coat over Amelia and clasps her arms around the shivering woman.

"Warmer?" Arizona asks. She can smell her hair and feel the warmth of her body against her own. She wonders why Amelia is so cold when her body feels so hot. Amelia only laughs and nods her head in affirmation.

"You know, I have a lot of fun with you," Amelia confesses.

"You do?" Arizona asks. Her body is completely warm now. She can feel the words in her chest - she can feel the warmth there, too.

"Yeah. I'm glad I came to Seattle."

"I'm glad you came, too."

She wants to tell her that she's saved her. Saved her career. Saved some part of her she's not even sure of, but she feels too close to her to say it. She'd feel strange saying it, she thinks. She might grip her too tightly. She might do something.

"We're kind of…" Amelia's words trail off and she laughs softly, leaning closer into Arizona. Her back feels warmer against her chest. She wonders if the shorter woman can feel her heart beating against her. It's hasty, and unsettling. "We're kind of like a couple right now, huh?" she says, and though Arizona is not looking at her face, she can see the grin on it, she can hear the lightness of her tone.

Arizona grows stiff. She wants to pull away. She wonders if Amy can sense the change.

Because _she_ realizes it now. It's too sudden, too fast, and it hits her very hard in this moment, as another gust of wind prompts Amelia to turn around and bury her face into blonde hair. She feels her breath on her neck, and it's hot, too hot, it spreads throughout her body - so very quickly. She feels it along her skin, almost in her spine, and it makes her so very hot.

She tries to remain cool. But even the brisk wind cannot cool the heat of her body.

Yet her tone is successful as she inquires, "Cold, huh?"

Amelia pulls back now and looks at her. Her eyes are dark again, sultry, decisive and... tempting. "Yeah."

"We should go then," Arizona says quickly, pulling out of her reach, though her hands remain on her shoulders. She needs to look away, but she can't. She briefly grips Amelia's shoulders before letting her go.

"Should we?" Amelia asks.

"Yes," the blonde answers, buttoning her coat and turning around. She crosses her arms in front of her, and trails off and away from Amelia. She can feel the shorter woman's watchful gaze on her back before she follows quickly behind.

And when Amelia catches up, she doesn't bother grabbing her arm this time.

She knows now. Feeling her breath against her neck and the softness of her skin has only confirmed it for her. She wants to feel her lips on her, and her warm breath on her neck. She wants to know how her skin feels, she wants to discover its softness.

She wants her.

Really bad.


	7. Chapter 7

Arizona was going to kiss her last night.

That much was obvious.

Amelia knew she was going to by the way she clutched her shoulders - by the way her eyes looked. It was known from her intense stare, and the way she looked at her lips before she decidedly chose not to lean in.

Amelia let her, too. She prompted her. She leaned into her and grazed her nose against Arizona's warm neck, allowing herself to smell the blonde's perfume which, at the time, seemed too tempting to her. She wonders if that was the reason that she pulled back to watch her. She remembers feeling her long yellow locks tickle her skin. Though she was cold, she felt warm at the time.

She gave her a chance. She really did, she thinks.

And she was going to.

Arizona _was_ going to kiss her, and Amelia was going to let her.

But she didn't.

She spoke about this at her AA meeting this morning. Richard stared at her with a look she couldn't quite determine. He smiled and chuckled to himself, and it made Amelia want to run up to him and shake all of the answers he probably had about the enigmatic blonde woman.

She wants to ask. She should ask. That's why she's been waiting in the office all day.

But she noticed the surgical board. Arizona's packed.

Yet, the door swings open and she looks quickly behind her. The surprise doesn't seem to catch up, though, and she's distracted by the child in Arizona's arms and the creepy monkey backpack swung around her shoulder.

"Hey!" Arizona starts, almost frantically. The child giggles, pulls at her mother's hair, and turns her attention to Amelia, who sits in a chair, staring at the two.

"Hey?"

"Last night," Arizona starts, and immediately, Amelia feels her heart start to race. Is this how she's going to say it? She didn't expect this. Not with Arizona's arms occupied by her child and an ugly monkey backpack. "Last night, you said I should bring her to the office right?"

"Wha," Amelia replies, startled by her sudden question. "Y, yeah."

"You don't have surgery for a while," Arizona points out, kicking the door closed with her foot. "Sof, this is Amy," she tells the child. "Remember Amy? I talked about her."

Sofia seems to realize the implications behind the abrupt introduction and ducks her head into her mother's shoulder. "Sofia," Arizona says.

"What's going on?" Amelia interrupts.

"I need a favor."

"Which is?"

Arizona slips the monkey backpack off her shoulder and it falls to the floor with a thud. She grumbles to herself as she settles the child on her feet and bends down to look at her. "Sofia, say hi to Amy."

"Nuh uh."

" _Sofia._ "

When the child turns around, Amelia notices the stuffed reindeer cradled in her arms. She chose that reindeer.

"Hi."

Amelia grins, "Hi, Sofia."

"I need you to watch her."

" _What!?"_ Amelia exclaims.

" _Please!_ Callie is swamped and I have surgery in ten minutes. No one is free. _Please_ , you _did_ want to meet her, didn't you?"

"But-"

"It's only for a few hours! Callie will pick her up before your next surgery, I promise."

"Arizona-" Amelia starts, but the pager on the blonde's waist starts to beep.

"Please, Amelia!"

"Okay, okay!"

"Sofia," Arizona says, and the child turns her attention back to her mother. "You're going to stay with Amy for a few hours, okay? Mami will come and pick you up after, okay?"

"No!" Sofia exclaims.

"Amy is fun! Remember all the nice things Mommy said about her?"

"No!"

"She chose Rudy! You love Rudy, don't you? Amy chose it _just_ for you."

Sofia allows this to sink in as she turns to the neurosurgeon, eyeing her skeptically.

"Sofia, Mommy has to go now," Arizona tells her.

"No!"

"Come on, baby. Amy is fun, okay? You'll have a good time," Arizona promises, kissing her on the forehead.

Amelia stands up and walks over to the mother and daughter, crouching down to reassure Sofia.

"We'll have a great time! Let's, uh, talk about reindeers!" Amelia insists.

Arizona rolls her eyes. "Nice."

Amelia glares at her, "Shouldn't you go?"

"Thank you!" the blonde exclaims. "Okay, baby. I'll see you later, okay?" she kisses Sofia on the forehead and stands to leave. "Thanks so much, Amelia, I owe you big time."

"You _really_ do."

The blonde only grins in reply as she rushes out, and Sofia cradles the reindeer closer to her face as Amelia stares back at her.

"So," she starts. "You named him Rudy?"

Sofia nods hesitantly.

"That's a good name."

She nods again.

"You like reindeers?"

"Uh huh," she murmurs.

"Me too," she says. "Do you want to watch Rudolph?"

Sofia nods hesitantly as Amelia stands and offers her hand to her. Sofia contemplates for a moment, but switches Rudy to one arm so she can take Amelia's hand with her free one. The neurosurgeon slowly leads her to one of the chairs and picks Sofia up so that she's settled comfortably on one.

"Okay," she starts. "I have to look for it."

"Ok."

"Why don't you tell me about Rudy in the meantime?"

"His nose lights up!" she exclaims, and pouts when Amelia doesn't look. "Look!" she demands, and the brunette looks as the nose glows into a neon red. "Like mommy!"

Amelia laughs, "Like mommy?"

"Mommy nose red too!"

"You're right!" she laughs again, "That's so cool!"

"Amy's nose get red too."

"What?" Amelia asks.

"Mommy said Amy get red too," she exclaims. "Red like mommy."

"Yeah?" she asks. "Yeah, that's true," she affirms and looks to the computer again. She thinks for a moment, and then looks back at Sofia, who watches her in wonderment. "What else does Mommy say about Amy?"

"Funny," Sofia explains. "Nice."

"Yeah?"

"Ya! Pretty! Mommy likes Amy?"

"She does?" she asks, and almost feels silly for feeling validation from a child.

But it's Arizona's daughter, she thinks.

"Ya!"

Amelia grins, "Amy likes Mommy too."

* * *

She is mostly preoccupied when the door opens behind her. Rudolph is more interesting than she had initially anticipated, and she finds herself almost dissecting the children's film even though Sofia already fell asleep.

She expects it to be Arizona, but finds herself surprised when she rolls her chair around and finds Callie standing at the door, staring at the monkey backpack carelessly tossed on the floor.

"Hey," she says.

"Hey."

"Uh," Callie starts, her eyes briefly scanning the room. They seem to grow cautious as they land back on Amelia.

She wants to scan the room too, to notice what Callie has, but she already knows. Much of Arizona's belongings are here - traces of her lie everywhere. Most of Arizona is here now.

Callie looks over at her child napping on Amelia's lap and her eyes soften. It's not a look of possessiveness, not when she witnesses her child during her tranquil moments.

"Arizona said she left her with you."

Amelia looks down at Sofia, who sleeps with a kind of tenderness that warms her heart. "Yeah."

"Sorry about that," Callie offers. "We got caught up in surgery and daycare is just-"

"No, I get it," Amelia interjects. "I don't mind," she smiles, running her fingers gently through the child's thick hair. "Not at all."

Callie smiles awkwardly and moves closer toward Amelia. "Did she give you any trouble?"

"Nope," Amelia grins, "We had lots of fun."

"Sorry," she says again. "Arizona just sort of decided this herself."

"Well," Amelia grins. "She made a good decision."

Just then, Sofia's eyes flutter open and lighten up when she sees Callie standing in front of her. She jumps out of Amelia's lap and into Callie's arms.

"Mami!"

"Hey, sweetie," she greets her, kissing her softly on the forehead. "Did you have a good time with Amelia?"

"Amy is funny!" Sofia exclaims. "I love her!"

"Yeah?" Callie grins. "That's good."

"Look," the child demands, presenting her reindeer toy with two hands. "Amy chose Rudy!"

Callie seems surprised and looks up towards Amelia. "You chose that?"

"Yeah."

"Arizona said she got it at the Christmas market."

"Yeah, uh," Amelia explains, "We went together."

"Oh," Callie frowns. "But Owen said you cancelled?"

Amelia laughs, "Are you his messenger?"

"No, that's not-"

"I did cancel. For the Christmas market."

"Oh," Callie says. She lifts Sofia in her arms and the child settles comfortably on her chest. She stands and swings the monkey bag on her shoulder and turns to leave. "Thanks for watching her."

"Anytime," Amelia grins. She wants to turn back to the computer now, to finish watching the movie, but she can feel the hesitation coming from Callie as she watches her from the door.

"What's up?" Amelia asks.

"You know, he's my friend so I want to just let you know," Callie starts, "that's where Owen planned to take you. The Christmas market."

"We're not dating, Callie."

"Yeah, but you're not dating Arizona either," she says, and shuts the door behind her.

* * *

She doesn't notice when Arizona opens the door, but the shuffling behind her gives the blonde woman away. She doesn't turn to her, though, and instead settles for the intense stare on her back. She can feel the woman's eyes peering at her - waiting, and maybe wondering.

Because she is wondering. She wonders if she'll talk about it.

And though she thinks of how appealing Arizona's lips looked last night, Amelia chooses to say nothing, and flips the page of the chart she has in front of her. She cannot read the words no matter how many times her eyes scan the print. Arizona briefly shuffles behind her and pulls the rolling seat placed next to her to sit just behind her.

She hears a sigh as the blonde takes her seat and rolls her chair closer to her. Amelia only slightly flinches when Arizona gently rests her head against her shoulder.

They say nothing for a while, as Amelia scribbles notes, the pen scratching the paper with a kind of ruggedness she never knew she possessed.

"Are you sad?"

"No."

"Then get off my shoulder," Amelia orders. "You're heavy."

Arizona giggles against her arm, and the neurosurgeon feels her warm breath through her lab coat. She can tell the blonde has closed her eyes when she does nothing to move.

Amelia flips another page, trying to stay still and support Arizona's weight against her unwilling shoulder.

"How was Sofia?" she finally asks.

"Good," she informs her. "She said you like me."

Arizona laughs, "I do."

"She's cute."

"She is," Arizona says, "it's all Callie."

"And you," Amelia adds. "She's got your habits."

The blonde giggles again, and Amelia can feel the vibrations of her laugh against her shoulder. She can feel her breath and her warmth, and suddenly, she wants it.

She wants to say it. She wants to point it out, to tell her that she knew she was going to kiss her, and that maybe she wanted her to, maybe she would let her. She _thinks_ that she wanted her to kiss her too, because she wants to know what it feels like. She still wonders. Most of all, she wants to know what she will do.

She wants, she wants.

"Last night," Amelia starts, and she hears Arizona inhale sharply as she leans closer into her shoulder, exhaling hotly into the cloth of her lab coat. "Last night, you were going to-"

"I'm going to tell Herman."

Her resolve fails. "What?" Amelia asks, surprised by the interruption.

"Tomorrow. I'm going to tell her about the surgery. About everything."

Immediately, Amelia finds herself laughing. She laughs without effort - it's a faulty laugh. Fabricated. Exasperated. Her resolve fails. "Hasn't she already found out?"

"I'm sure she has a clue if she's been keeping track of her medical file releases."

"Right."

"And I'll need you there afterwards… to explain the surgery," Arizona says. "And to reassure her."

"Arizona-"

"I need you, Amelia," she tells her. "I need you to do this."

"Okay," Amelia decides. "Okay, I will."


	8. Chapter 8

She thought it would have been different, namely because Herman seemed so collected before. But then Arizona showed her the scan, starting to speak in a soft voice, confessing what has been bothering her for the past several weeks.

It's relieving to confess, she thinks. She still believes it. Though now her mentor looks at her with resentful eyes, she still believes that what she is doing is right.

Above all, she is a doctor.

"Listen-"

"No," she refuses. "You went against my orders. _My orders_."

"Doctor Herman."

"This is _my_ problem," Herman interjects. " _My_ problem."

She is unsettled. Herman has always unsettled her, but this time, the woman is truly infuriated.

The door opens, and Arizona briefly thinks that she shouldn't have probably told her in the lounge as she hears a familiar voice quickly murmur _Hey, I_ before Herman swipes her hand across the table, sending coffee mugs, papers, and surgical plans onto the floor with a loud crash. Arizona follows Herman's gaze to the door, where she watches Callie staring at the scene with wide eyes.

Despite her ex-wife walking in at quite possibly the worst moment, she quickly turns her attention back to Doctor Herman.

"Doctor Herman, if you would just listen to Doctor Shep-"

"No!" she yells. "You are supposed to do _everything_ I say!"

"You just-" Arizona tries to say, but she can see Herman's eyes narrow at her as she slowly collects herself, straightening her lab coat before turning her attention quickly back to Callie.

"Robbins, clean this up and come see me _immediately_ ," she says, turning her back on the pediatric surgeon. Callie moves aside as she swiftly passes by her without looking back.

Arizona sighs and bends down to pick up the surgical plan, closing the journal carefully. She tries to clean up the mess despite Callie's eyes on her.

"And you're _actually_ going to clean it up."

"Who else will?" Arizona retorts, without looking up.

Arizona feels Callie waiting for more, but when the blonde says nothing, she asks, "What the hell was that about?"

Arizona stands now, and deliberately avoids her eyes. She can feel Callie's gaze on her - that intense, inquisitive gaze that has never once failed to leave her nervous. Arizona is not a good liar.

"Nothing," she lies.

"Arizona-" Callie warns. But Arizona doesn't respond to her warning tone, so Callie continues, "She shouldn't be talking to you like that. Or doing _things_ like that!" She puts emphasis on the last few words as she points at the scattered mess on the floor.

"She's allowed to," Arizona reasons, justifying Herman's behavior in her mind.

"No, she's not!" Callie refutes in a loud voice. "That is _not_ how a fellow should be treated and you know it."

"Callie, it's my problem, not yours."

Callie scoffs in disbelief at her dismissive tone. "What the hell is going on with you, Arizona?"

"Callie-" Arizona warns.

"Look at me," she demands.

"Cal-"

"Look at me!"

She turns her gaze to look at Callie, finally, but like a whiplash of relief, she is distracted by the woman standing at the door.

"Amelia?"

Amelia stands with her arms crossed, leaning against the doorway, as if she had been there the entire time. As if she swooped in like a guardian. Callie turns to watch her too, but Amelia only stares at Arizona, her eyes steady and unwavering. And it does something to her, that stare. It makes her stronger, it makes her confident. It doesn't make her crumble under someone else's gaze.

This look that Amelia gives her is of a different kind. Separate from desire. Separate from what she has now determined to be lust. It's different. It's relieving. Protective. Challenging and confident.

"You ready?" Amelia asks.

Arizona smiles, "Yeah."

Amelia glances at Callie before nodding at Arizona, returning a smile that is just as soft, sweet, and comforting as her own. "I'm going to see her now. I'll be waiting for you."

Arizona nods again before she turns to leave, and Arizona immediately turns to the corner of the room and reaches for the broom. Callie still stands waiting while she quickly sweeps up the mess into the corner. Luckily, she thinks, Herman finished her coffee before she tossed the mug.

Callie laughs, displeased. "So even Amelia knows, yet you won't tell me?"

"Amy is helping me."

" _Amy?_ "

Arizona says nothing to this, though, and places the broom back. She returns to the table and neatly stacks all the necessary papers into a pile before tucking them under her arm.

"You like her, don't you?" Callie asks. Her tone is not accusing, nor possessive. A simple inquiry, a simple discovery. Something that just wants to be known.

"It's not like-" Arizona starts, but Callie only laughs. "You do," she says, almost in disbelief. "I can tell."

"How would you know?"

"Because I know you more than anyone."

Yet that claim feels bitter, it feels too loaded. Too deep. The claim Callie makes is retrospective, almost archaic. Something that begins to lose its truthfulness. So Arizona retorts in the same way, "I feel like we never really knew each other at all."

It's combative, the way she says it. And she wants to take it back. To not dig deep into problems of the past, problems that have been let go. Problems that are now diminishing. She wants to move forward.

Yet, she throws the blow.

And Callie takes it. Her sigh is exasperated. She is searching for words.

"Look-" Arizona starts. She doesn't want to fight. She clucks her tongue, retracts her buff, and starts for the door.

"Derek's sister?" Callie asks in disbelief. "Derek's _little_ sister?"

She doesn't want to reply. But something about Callie's incredulous tone makes her. And it's probably the way she says it. Because she doesn't know Amelia. She doesn't know.

"It's Amelia," Arizona says, pausing at the door. She hasn't looked at her until now, she hasn't really tried to look at her face. Because she knew if she looked at her, her eyes would falter. Her resolve would falter. But it won't this time. Not this time.

Something has changed, something about her has changed.

And it's something that doesn't need fixing.

She feels Callie waiting as she turns to look at her from the door. "It's Amelia," she tells her. "Amelia Shepherd."

* * *

They both flinch when Herman bangs her fist on the table, her resolve weakens and translates into physical expression. Anger. She sighs deeply, and collects herself again. She decides.

"Fine," she says.

And while Amelia only grins, the blonde is surprised at her acceptance. Surprised at her resignation. "F, fine?" Arizona asks, her eyes wide.

"You say," Herman starts, looking at Amelia. "You say you can save my life."

"I can," Amelia affirms, confidence saturated in her tone. Arizona looks at her and smiles. Amelia's confidence is beautiful, she thinks. This is what she likes about her.

"Then what have I got to lose?" Herman asks, though she is not seeking a reply. She checks her pager and looks at the two surgeons before she nods. "Just tell me what to do. Prepare, and we will have a meeting in two days' time."

Arizona and Amelia grin at each other when she leaves, and the neurosurgeon takes a seat at the computer to prepare herself. They go over the surgical plans once again.

"We'll have to find a way to get this around Owen," Amelia tells her. "I can probably take care of that," she adds, and the confidence in her statement unsettles Arizona. She could, couldn't she? Because Owen and Amelia share a bond. She wonders if he lights up the darkness in Amelia's heart the way she does with her.

"Well, yeah," Arizona agrees after a moment of silence. "And the board."

Amelia seems surprised. "You didn't tell Callie?"

"No, why would I?"

"Didn't she hear?"

"No."

"Oh," Amelia frowns. She turns her eyes away from Arizona and stares at the scan of Herman's tumor. "So what did you talk about?"

_Us. You._

"Nothing," she says.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah," Arizona says dismissively, "So you'll take care of Owen, then?" she presses on.

Amelia frowns again and turns her gaze away, staring at the surgical plan in front of her. She begins to take notes as Arizona searches for words to say. Words to tell her. Something.

"So," she starts. But she feels unsettled, so she stands uncertainly. "No more ice cream?"

"No."

"We could share a pint again," she laughs, her voice low and sultry, her nonsensical words bearing suggestion. She doesn't even know what she is saying. She is simply searching for words. Amelia doesn't grin or laugh, though, she just smirks, and it's kind of cold, the way she does it.

"What's the matter?" Arizona asks, surprised by Amelia's unresponsiveness.

"Could you cut that out?" Amelia asks, looking up at Arizona.

"What?" she laughs.

"The flirting," the brunette explains. "It's getting tiring."

"Flirting? I'm not-"

"I know you like me," Amelia tells her. Arizona feels her face grow hot, and she opens her mouth to say something. But she pauses instead. She inhales in a quick breath, and Amelia casts her eyes back down at her surgical plan, a scowl on her face. She seems tired. Annoyed.

And immediately, Arizona wants to deny it. She is quick to deny. But she feels something settle in her chest. Maybe it's a pang, maybe it's a revelation. It feels full. Her heart feels full. Maybe it's just fatigue. She is tired of trying to be something she isn't. She is tired of denying parts of herself and her wants.

 _It's Amelia. Amelia Shepherd_ , she told Callie.

She thinks it can't hurt to say it. She's been clear enough. It might be all over. She needs to be honest.

She should be honest.

"Yeah," she says. "Fine," she continues, and Amelia looks up at her with expectant eyes. "I like you, Amelia. A lot," she explains.

This time, it's Amelia that opens her mouth to say something. It's her, this time, that inhales sharply. But she looks back down. Reluctant, Arizona notices. She can't take it back. She can't compromise. She should just do what is best for herself. So she decides.

Well, she's said it. She decidedly continues, "So I need to not be so close to you."

"What?" the neurosurgeon asks, looking back up at her. And now her eyes are bright. And something else. Something Arizona hasn't seen before. They seem vulnerable.

"I need to not be so close to you," Arizona explains. "To not do this," she says, not quite sure of what she means. She gestures at the wide space between them with her hand, "because I can't help it."

Amelia says nothing, and Arizona simply waits. She thinks she should turn to leave, that it would be best if she did, but Amelia says, "W, we can be close, still."

So this is what it feels like. For someone to say it like that. Someone other than her. Someone new and refreshing, with more confidence and less doubt. _Still, but_.

"No, we can't. I can't hug you or lean on your shoulder or joke around or _anything_ like that without feeling like I'm going to explode."

"Why?"

She might as well be honest. She should just be honest. "Because I want to kiss you," she confesses. "And," and she almost says _I want to have sex with you,_ but she doesn't.

"And… what?"

"Nothing," she says, "never mind."

"And what?" Amelia presses on.

"And I think you wouldn't stop me," Arizona says, honestly. But Amelia doesn't say anything, she just watches her with wide eyes, "Right? So I need to not be near you for a while."

Her chest feels too full now, and she needs fresh air. She needs to be away from her, to bury herself in something that's not her. She turns to leave, and Amelia calls out to her. But she doesn't get up. She doesn't reach out, she doesn't pull her arm so that she's closer, so that she won't leave.

So she leaves.

She shuts the door and feels her heart sink.

It's better this way.


	9. Chapter 9

This is how it happens.

First, she feels foolish. She is someone who hardly hesitates, and she doesn't know why she does it, or why she did it in that moment. But she did.

She could admit she was jealous. And she was, just a bit. Only because Arizona wasn't being totally open about Callie. And, anyway, what right did she have to know?

So she was jealous, just for a moment. That's why she blurted out that she knew Arizona liked her.

But then Arizona admitted it herself.

She wonders why Arizona didn't do anything. Why she just walked away. She wonders and wonders, but decides not to look for the answer.

So it happens.

She is talking to him. She talks to him and finds herself almost pouring her heart out, but she isn't really listening to the words that come out of her mouth. She instead listens to the singing in her heart.

It's funny. And more than slightly unsettling. She wants to make it stop, she wants to feel more connected to the conversation she is having, but she is distracted.

She finishes what she is saying and smiles hard. The force of it hurts her cheeks. She watches him as he absorbs, watches as his face gets serious. She watches that seemingly contrived look of surprise take its appearance on his features. But he is always genuine. He has proven it. He continues to prove it. He is proving it right now.

He has steely blue eyes. Sometimes she finds herself mistaking his hair for red under the dim lighting of his trailer, but she knows that he's blond under most light. He is blond right now.

Lately, she sees blonde hair and blue eyes in all of her dreams. She spends most of her time around it. But it's not Owen's flat hair and steely eyes that she sees. It's bouncy - mostly whisky - kind of fluttery hair, and sometimes icy eyes that she really finds herself looking at.

She wonders why she pays so much attention to distinguishing the way Arizona's hair looks in her dreams. Her hair hasn't changed much from med school, she thinks. Not that she saw her a lot during those days.

But she sees her now. All the time.

 _Their_ hideout.

He smiles, and it's kind of sad - the way he does it. The way his eyes dim, the way his head lowers only slightly as he considers his words. She is not like him; she doesn't really consider what she says before she says it. She remembers what she just told him. And in a low voice, he says he feels the same, says he's had those sort of feelings before.

He has different feelings now, he continues. Now that he's met her. It's justifiable reasoning. He likes this - what they have. He likes it a lot.

 _I like you, Amelia. A lot,_ she told her.

She likes it, too.

She likes the sharing and the sex and the temporary filling of the emptiness in her heart, but it seems to make her want more, more, more.

More of something.

She finds something always lacking.

 _I need to not be so close to you_ , she told her.

"Do you want to come to the trailer tonight?" he inquires in soft, slightly seductive voice.

And it's the tone of his voice that makes her realize that the things she craves the most in life always appear in her dreams.

She thinks about this before answering.

"I can't," she determines. "Not tonight."

 _Because I want to kiss you,_ she told her.

"Oh…" he deflates.

She is unflinching, determined. "Owen," she says, and she wants to know, though it won't make a difference, "what are we?"

 _I need to not be near you for a while_ , she told her.

He considers this, and she sees that flash of uncertainty in his eyes. He is silent for a while. Amelia taps her foot just as quietly. "…I don't know."

But she knows.

She does.

So she leaves.

* * *

Amelia doesn't let Arizona say anything when she opens the door. The blonde looks surprised, surprised by Amelia's bewilderment and sudden appearance and maybe also by the fact that she's out of breath. She collects herself for a moment as she steps inside and swings the door shut behind her. Arizona starts to reach out to her, maybe to fix her hair, maybe to grasp her shoulder and ask her why she's here, but Amelia just slaps her hand away and pulls at the collar of her sweater and pushes her hard against the wall.

"Am-" is what Arizona gets to say before she kisses her, finally allowing herself to know how her lips feel. And they feel good. They're softer than she imagined they would be. Their softness is alluring, she thinks, as she presses own lips harder against Arizona's. She kisses her once, and then again, and she feels Arizona reach her hands out to grab her hips. She feels her pulling her in closer to her, and she feels the kisses grow stronger. More passionate. She wants to pull back, to look at the blonde, but when she does, Arizona just draws her back in, chasing her lips, kissing her again. She pulls her closer and Amy is suddenly out of breath.

She pulls back and Arizona lets out a dreamy sigh which only makes Amelia grin. Arizona's face is red, and her body feels hot against Amelia's. She withdraws her hands now, and brushes back her hair, letting out another shaky breath.

"I, I want to bang you," she says.

" _What?_ " Amelia asks.

"I don't know, someone told me I should say that to you."

Amelia scowls. "That's not very classy."

"Alex isn't a classy guy."

"You told him that you wanted to bang me?" Amy grins.

"No," Arizona smiles. "He just figured it out."

Amelia smiles and leans back into her, kissing her again. Her lips are soft. Too soft, she thinks, and she can't pull away. But she does.

"I did, too. Before you told me."

Arizona's breath is still ragged from the last kiss. She seems to be pinned against the wall. "You did?"

Her surprise makes Amelia laugh. "Have you seen the way you look at me?"

Arizona only laughs at her inquiry, her voice soft and low. "That's true," she says. She looks to the floor for a moment, and then lifts her head to look back at Amelia. Her seem eyes softer.

"I was just waiting for you to admit it," Amelia explains. "But that was a dumb choice."

"What?" Arizona asks. "Why?"

"Because you think I'll have second thoughts about it," she explains. "And I'm not like that. When I know I want something, I'm sure of it."

"But-"

"You like me and that's enough."

Arizona seems to absorb this, but she asks, "Why didn't you say anything before?"

"What should I have said?" she asks, fingering the collar of Arizona's sweater. She pulls the collar down with her index finger, observing that defined clavicle that always seems to catch her eye. The moment of captivation, she thinks. "You were adamant," she continues. "You caught me off guard. You were decided. You didn't let me think."

Arizona frowns, and reaches her hands out to Amy's wrists, clasping her hands around them so she meets her eyes. "I thought you knew."

"You walked away too fast," she counters.

"Well, there's Owen-"

"Where does Owen fit in?" Amy interjects.

"You have Owen."

"I don't _have_ Owen. We're not anything," Amelia claims. "Well, he's just… different. He's a friend," she tries to explain. "And he doesn't make me feel the way that you do."

Arizona looks into her eyes, as if searching for something, and Amelia only watches them in turn. She draws her hand to stroke Arizona's cheek, twirling a loose strand of blonde hair around her finger.

"But I do know," Amy affirms, but she pauses in her statement and kisses her lightly on the lips again. She pulls back to look at her, "I know how bad I want to."

"To what?"

Amelia grins at her inquiry, at the blonde's pressing for answers. "Kiss you. Fuck you. That kind of stuff," she says, smugly.

Arizona seems to blush, but giggles at her in reply and smiles, and now her eyes are softer. Brighter. Amy likes her eyes, the way they look at her. All the time. She could get used to this, she thinks - used to staring closely into these blue eyes. She's never been so close before, she realizes.

"So why didn't you just tell me then?" Arizona asks.

"I guess most of me was afraid," she continues, fingering the fabric of her sweater. Arizona releases her wrists and brings her own hands to Amelia's waist. "But then I thought back and realized how stupid that was."

Arizona laughs. "Really?"

"Yeah," Amelia admits. "Do you know? I always act on my wants. I've learned not to now, so maybe that held me back," she explains. She can feel Arizona's fingers running against her clothed hip. They seem eager now, and she can see her eyes growing darker. "But for something like this," Amelia continues, "someone like you," and, captivated by her pink lips, she stops talking just to kiss her again, "it's not so bad to act on them."

She pulls the collar of Arizona's sweater down, so she can kiss her clavicle, and feel it on her tongue. She traces it slowly before she pulls back. The throaty exhale Arizona gives her is enough to heat her entire body. She looks at her and grins. "Not bad at all."

Arizona smiles, and draws Amelia closer to her, leaning in for a kiss. She slips her tongue inside, much to Amelia's surprise, and when she traces her tongue against her own, Amelia feels engulfed. Her body is suddenly on fire. Arizona strengthens her hold on Amelia's hips while her tongue delves deeper into her mouth. But the shorter woman shoves her back against the wall and begins pulling her sweater up her body.

"So," she starts, her breath ragged and excited. Arizona only stares back at her with lustful eyes and bruised lips."Is Alex not home or am I just going to fuck you against this wall?"

Arizona laughs again, though her eyes remain dark. Excited. "He isn't," she tells her, "but we should move to my bedroom."

They struggle to the bedroom, only because their lips are too occupied with exploring each other. Amelia barely has time to process her surroundings when she feels her back slam against the shut door of Arizona's room. The blonde seems domineering - incredibly sensual, she realizes. And her lips are addicted to Amelia's neck.

"Bed," Amy manages to say in between her panting, but Arizona doesn't move, and instead goes to unbutton her shirt. Preoccupied with this, Amelia shoves her back until she loses her balance and falls onto the bed.

She hovers over the blonde and watches her face. Arizona's eyes are darker now, though somehow they seem to retain their natural brightness, and her sporadic breaths leave Amelia breathless.

"Um," Arizona starts, attempting to sit up. But her position makes it difficult, and her chest brushes against Amelia's. "You know, maybe we should-"

"Why do you always talk?" Amelia asks, grabbing her shoulders and shoving her back down. She kisses her hard before she allows herself to continue. She likes the feel of her lips, the softness of them. "Just let me fix it for once."

"You make me nervous," Arizona blurts out.

"What?" Amelia asks. Is she having regrets? "Why?"

"I-I don't know, you look-" the pediatric surgeon tries to explain, her eyes falling to Amelia's chest before she meets her gaze, "you always look like you're amused."

Amelia laughs. "I'm not making fun of you," she clarifies, reaching out to thread soft blonde hair through her fingers, "you're just cute. It's fun."

"Well," Arizona smiles, seeming relieved, "Maybe I worry too much."

"Yeah," Amelia agrees, and pulls off the blonde's sweater in a quick gesture. She unbuttons her own and throws it behind her. "Now get on the bed properly," she commands.

Arizona does just that, and moves up onto the bed, slipping off her pants quickly. Her eyes warily fall to her prosthetic and she looks at Amelia, suddenly uncertain.

"What?"

Arizona laughs, "This won't be very sexy."

"You are _too_ sexy."

She begins to take off her prosthetic while Amelia strips off the rest of her clothing, leaving her underwear intact. She crawls up on the bed and shoves Arizona on her back when she is finished.

"Well, you're eager," Arizona grins.

"Do you know how bad I want to fuck you right now?" Amelia asks, impatiently.

"Who's classy now?" the blonde retorts as Amy leans in to kiss her lips. She begins to lose her breath again when Arizona slips her tongue into her mouth and reaches over to unfasten her bra. The straps fall down on her shoulders, and Arizona pulls them off without leaving her lips.

"Who's _eager_ now?" Amelia grins, but her witty comments turn into moans once Arizona kisses her breasts. She finds herself struggling to lean over Arizona, but only because the blonde seems to be in control, even with her position on the bottom. Amelia feels as she traces her nipple with her hot tongue and trembles above her.

"Maybe _I_ should be on top," Arizona says huskily, her hand on Amelia's hips. She feels the taller woman run her fingers along the lacy material of her underwear. She is teasing, suddenly.

"I know how to fuck a woman, Arizona," Amy claims, reaching out to unhook her bra. She does so quickly and marvels at Arizona's breasts, placing her hands on them, relishing in its softness. Everything about this woman is soft, she thinks.

"Have you _had_ sex with a woman before?"

"Well," Amy considers, "In med school. But I've fucked _myself_ before."

Arizona only laughs at her confident admission, "Doesn't count. Totally not the same."

"It is!"

"No," Arizona corrects her, pulling her hands away from her breasts. She flips her over on the bed, much to Amelia's surprise. Her grin is sexy and devilish, and Amelia resigns to her dominance when she says, "Let me show you."

She is surprised when the first thing Arizona does is go down on her. She doesn't know when she blonde does it, though she seems to, when she realizes the blonde's kisses are slowly drifting downward. Her hot breath and incessant kisses on her body seems to consume her, and Amelia feels overwhelmed. She feels Arizona swiftly pull her panties off of her legs, and gasps out when her mouth meets her heat.

She tries to control herself when Arizona's tongue begins to explore her, carefully licking every spot, but she realizes how addicted she is when she starts to pull on her hair. The blonde only grips her hips tighter, keeping her in place, and Amelia suddenly finds herself crying out loudly when Arizona slips her tongue inside of her.

Her tongue is warm, too, she thinks. Especially inside of her.

She is not sure when she comes, because she does it twice. And again, when Arizona slips her fingers inside of her. She trails up her body as Amelia feels herself clenching against Arizona's fingers. "You're tight," Arizona husks, and it makes her moan out loudly. She wants to do the same, so she reaches her hand out and slips them inside Arizona's underwear.

"Take it off," she manages to gasp out.

Arizona laughs, her voice low and sultry. "Too late," she says, exhaling loudly when Amelia feels her own wetness.

"You're really wet," Amelia laughs.

"So are you."

She comes before Arizona does, clenching tightly around her fingers, but her own fingers don't let up inside of the blonde, and she changes position so that Arizona unravels beneath her. She kisses her hard, discovering the softness of her lips as her fingers plunge deeper inside of the blonde.

And when Arizona comes, she realizes how infatuated she is. The blonde throws her head back against the pillow, her eyes shut tightly. The breath she releases is quick, and erotic, and sensual to Amelia's ears and makes Amelia realize that she wants it again.

She wants it. She wants her.

They remain silent in the aftermath, their bodies suddenly fatigued and exhausted. Both leaning on their backs, they stare up at the ceiling. Amelia turns to look at Arizona, whose eyes remain closed. She watches her breasts rise and fall as her breathing returns to normal.

"Hey," Amelia calls out to her, prompting Arizona to turn on her side to watch Amelia. Her eyes are soft again, and bright, and beautiful, and they seem to make Amelia's heart race again.

"Should we cuddle?" Amelia inquires, watching the blonde's eyebrows raise in surprise. She wants to reach out and trace them with her finger.

"What?"

"I don't know, you seem like you want to cuddle."

Arizona laughs. "Where did you even get that idea?"

Amelia pouts at her, mostly with the intention to trigger a reaction from the blonde. "So you don't?"

Arizona laughs softly and reaches out to graze her cheek. She tucks a lock of hair behind Amelia's ear and smiles. It makes Amelia's heart beat fast. "You're just turning it around. _You_ want to cuddle."

"Maybe."

So they do. Arizona leans closer into her and buries her face against Amelia's neck, sighing dreamily.

"Oh, Arizona?" Amelia calls out to her.

The blonde seems drowsy already, though, and ducks her head into Amy's shoulder, blonde hair sprawled out against her. The scent is alluring, she thinks, and she wants to let her know.

"Hm?"

"I like you too," she says. "A lot."


	10. Chapter 10

She knows the smell of Amelia even with her eyes closed. It's a good smell, though she can't quite place what exactly it is. She just knows that she likes it. Amelia smells good. Every part of her smells good, she realizes. Her face flushes upon recalling the events from last night, as she remembers Amelia's scent. She smiles as her nose gently brushes against the other woman's neck, and she nudges slightly upward to feel the graze of that soft skin against her own. The movement makes the other woman flinch only slightly, as if not used to the familiar contact.

She wants to feel it. She wants to take it in.

All of her. At least for now.

She wants to embrace the now.

Her eyes flutter open and she looks at the woman beside her, who sleeps with a calm she has never seen before. She's never seen Amelia this calm before, she realizes, and she watches as her face softens.

"Are you waking up?" Arizona asks in a soft voice.

"Mmm," Amelia murmurs.

"Wake up," she coaxes, reaching her hand out to poke her lightly on the cheek. Eyes still closed, Amelia frowns and gently slaps the intruding finger away. She moves now, and turns around on her side so that she's facing the blonde. "Not yet," the brunette replies with a raspy, sleepy voice that sounds surprisingly alluring to Arizona's ears.

Smiling, the blonde leans in closer and brushes her nose against Amelia's, surprised by her own forwardness. She is surprised by this intimate gesture she is making, yet she leans in and grazes her lips against Amelia's, kissing her lightly.

"Wake up," she whispers against her lips. "We have to leave soon."

Amelia reaches her arm out and settles her hand on Arizona's exposed hip, grazing the skin with her fingertips. Her eyes are still closed, but her breathing is steady now, and she seems to be fully awake.

"I have to shower," she tells her.

"Me too," Arizona replies.

She is tempted, for a moment, to suggest that they shower together. She kind of wants it. She knows she does. It's not an exceptionally intimate gesture. She's done it before. With Callie, with Leah.

They were different, though. She can't place what this is.

What _is_ this?

"Do you have an extra towel?" Amy asks again in her raspy sleep-laden tone. And it's that soft, calm voice that makes Arizona realize that she wants to hear this tone more often.

"Yes," she says. She escapes Amelia's grasp and, sitting up, she turns to the side of the bed. She feels Amy's watchful eyes on her back as she fixes her prosthetic on.

"Nice dimples," Amelia notes.

"What?" Arizona laughs, turning her head to look back at her.

Amelia is awake now. She is sitting up only slightly, watching the blonde with her amused eyes, head on hand, and her elbow planted into the pillow. The sheets fall slowly and reveal her chest, and Arizona's gaze drifts to her perfect breasts. She feels the heat from last night rush back to her.

"You're not very subtle, are you?" Amy asks, following her gaze.

Arizona only smiles in reply. "Dimples?"

"Your back," she clarifies. "They're nice on your face too, though." She winks at her and slips out of the sheets now, and Arizona finds a towel to give to her. She picks up her bathrobe too, but Amelia takes it from her hands and wraps it around herself instead, smiling playfully at Arizona.

As she exits the room, Arizona slips back into the sheets, leaning over to Amelia's side of the bed. She takes in her scent and wonders at it - almost marvels at it, and it makes her a little relieved to know that Amelia doesn't want to shower together.

It doesn't take long for Amelia to come back into the room, though. Her hair remains dry and it makes Arizona sit up in confusion.

"What?" she asks. "Is the shower not working?"

"I thought you could go first," Amelia offers. "To… you know, _test the waters_ and stuff. I'll grab you a towel."

Does that mean she wants to… together?

"Oh, okay," Arizona nods and slips out of bed.

Amelia strips off the bathrobe just as quickly and wraps it around Arizona's body, stopping at her back to wrap her arms around her. She ties the front of the robe from behind the blonde's body, with her chin resting on Arizona's shoulder.

"Well, now you're naked," Arizona points out, feeling the warmth of Amelia's skin pressing against her clothed body. The robe already smells like her. She feels the same heat arise in her again.

"Yeah."

"Should I wait for you?"

Amelia finishes tying her robe and releases Arizona from her embrace. "Just go," she says with a wink, swatting her behind in the process.

Arizona is already confused by this woman. Would Amelia join her? Would she come in on her own time? Would she disappear while she's in the shower?

These thoughts don't last long, though, not when she opens the door to the bathroom and finds herself staring at Jo's ass.

She stumbles two steps back, as if in defensive reflex. Jo is sitting on top of-

"Get out!" Alex howls, and she slams the door shut.

She storms back to her room and watches as Amelia bunches up the bedsheets sheets over her mouth in an attempt to mask her laughter.

"Well," Amelia laughs, "Jo's got a fine ass."

"You're a jerk," Arizona exclaims, tossing the towel at her face.

"Don't worry, Robbins," she assures her, "it's not as _fine_ as yours."

* * *

She finds the bread in the fridge and contemplates on a cup of coffee. The aroma of it appeals to her as a foreign smell only because Amelia's scent has been totally locked into her senses lately. She hears the brunette shuffle from the bathroom and into her bedroom, and now she stacks some toast onto her plate.

Should she sit and eat? She usually doesn't eat breakfast now.

She used to, but not now. It's too homely. She doesn't know what home is yet.

She's usually rushing out.

She hears footsteps from the stairs, and it isn't long before Alex and Jo enter the kitchen. She clears her throat immediately. "Sorry for-"

"Twice interrupted. Not cool, dude," Alex interjects. "Why is Amelia here anyway? You guys finally bang?"

Jo only giggles at his straight forward comment and reaches for a piece of toast.

"We did," Amelia says, entering the room with a sly grin on her face. Her expression is unabashed, and Arizona only smiles and shakes her head. Charmed? Bewildered? She's still unsure of how she feels about Amelia's attitude. She's mostly charmed, she thinks.

Jo and Alex opt for skipping breakfast and head out of the house, and now it's just Amelia and Arizona standing across from each other in the kitchen.

"I'm wearing the same clothes from last night," she tells her. "This might be my walk of shame."

"Who will notice?" Arizona asks, offering the toast she's stacked on her plate. She hasn't even touched a slice yet.

"Owen," Amelia says, and Arizona hold on the plate of toast wavers for a moment. She knows that Amelia catches it, though, because she watches her hand carefully before taking toast from the plate.

"Oh," Arizona says. He saw her yesterday. He knows what she was wearing, then. "Wait," she realizes, looking up at Amelia, "you didn't… with him, and then me?"

"What?" Amy asks in disbelief. "Seriously?"

"Amelia."

She drops the toast back onto Arizona's plate.

"Of course not," she tells her, her voice low now. "You think I'd fuck him and then come over and fuck you?" she asks incredulously. "Did you forget everything I told you? Do you think I'm like that?"

She feels her heart thundering in her chest. Amy's look of anger is something new and unfamiliar and it scares her a little bit. There's more beyond those eyes. More than she's ever known. "That's not what I meant."

"That's," Amelia says while she picks up her purse from on top of the counter, " _Exactly_ what you meant."

* * *

Amelia has surgery. It's usually not in such excess that she does have surgery, but Arizona can't find her. Amelia's absences feel longer now. She doesn't bother waiting for her in the hideout because Herman doesn't give her time to do that.

But Amelia has been on her mind all day. All the time, it seems. And she can't afford to let her heart melt again.

She wonders what it _would_ be like to have sex in Amelia's office. And in the shower. And in Alex's kitchen.

Once isn't enough. Once is far from complete.

She wants it again, but she wants it to be hers alone. Not anyone else's.

And when she rushes out of the cafeteria as Amelia enters, she realizes that she needs to say something.

"Are you focused?" Herman asks her as she is scrubbing for a surgery.

"I am."

"Robbins, I need you to be focused."

"I am focused, Doctor Herman."

"Keep your personal drama out of this surgery. Get it off your mind. Avoid it. Now's not the time."

"I am focused," Arizona repeats.

"I've seen you run away from Shepherd," she notes. "Whatever scuffle you have with her, you can save it for later."

Arizona looks over to Herman now, "I'm not running away from her."

"You are," Herman says, "and it isn't encouraging. You said she was the best."

"Listen," Arizona tells her, "Whatever I feel about her personally doesn't change the fact that she is your best bet."

"We'll see later," Herman says, seemingly satisfied. "You ready?"

"Yes."

* * *

"Listen," Arizona says and she grabs at her arm, startling the shorter woman.

"Oh, there you are," Amelia says. She has two coffee cups in her hands and offers one of them to Arizona. "Coffee."

"Listen, I wanted to-"

"You gonna take it?"

Arizona rolls her eyes and takes the coffee, and tightens her grip on Amelia's arm. "I wanted to apologize. I didn't mean to imply that. I was just-"

"Doctor Shepherd, Doctor Robbins," she hears behind her, and she feels anger flare inside of her. It's quick to arise and quick to dissipate, though, and he tries to settle himself in between the two of them, but mostly just stands to the side, his eyes narrowing at Amelia before turning to Arizona.

"Make sure you're prepared with the surgical plans for our meeting with Herman."

"Of course," Amelia says.

"What?" Arizona asks, surprised.

"Doctor Shepherd informed me this morning," Owen says, checking his pager. "We can talk about this later."

"That's what I was just going to tell you, actually…" Amelia admits to Arizona.

Owen clears his throat, and they both turn their attention to him again. Now he looks shy, almost like a young boy, Arizona thinks. He darts his eyes quickly at her before turning his gaze to Amelia.

"Also, do you mind if we talk tonight?" he asks.

"Sure," Amelia says, and it's that simple approval that makes Arizona's stomach twist again.

 _Why?_ She wonders. He smiles shyly at Amelia, nods at Arizona, and saunters away.

"I thought you were getting _around_ Owen, not telling him directly."

"Arizona," Amelia warns, "Don't you know? The scale of this surgery is phenomenal. There is _no way_ to hide something like this. It's not even something you'd want to hide. It's something that's never been done before," she explains, and Arizona can hear the rising excitement in her voice, the way her hands jump, the way the coffee she holds threatens to slip from her grasp.

It's not about him or her or anything like that. It's about the surgery.

She remembers the magic she worked in the OR today and the bravery it gave her, and it makes her smile at Amelia's excitement as she continues to ramble.

"Okay," Arizona says, nodding her head and putting her coffee down to grasp Amelia's shoulders. The escalation of her excitement is starting to make her a little too bouncy, Arizona thinks, and though "bouncy" seems unfitting for Amelia, that's how she'd want to describe her in this moment.

She settles her hands on the younger Shepherd's shoulders and Amelia grins widely at her. It makes her want to kiss her. She pulls away from her and is tempted to admit what she was feeling again, so she tries to.

"So you told him about Herman?" Arizona asks.

"Yeah," Amelia admits. "But I haven't told him about us yet."

 _Us,_ she thinks. That word. A combination. More than one. _Us_.

"But he wants to see you tonight."

"Yeah," Amelia nods, "I'll clear it up then."

"Right," Arizona says, and something about her tone makes Amelia watch her carefully. She picks up her coffee again and turns to leave, but Amelia stops her.

"What," she laughs, "are you jealous?"

Spot on. "Forget it."

"What?" Amelia asks, grabbing onto her sleeve. She pulls her closer to her, and gently entangles her arm with her own. "Arizona, tell me."

She turns around to look at her properly, and the concern in Amy's eyes makes her admit it. "Yes."

"What?"

"Yes, I'm jealous."

"See?" Amelia grins, "It's not hard to admit."

The thumping starts again. She pulls away. "I have surgery."

"Wait."

"Amelia-"

"Come here."

Coffees forgotten on the nurse's station, Amelia pulls her to an on-call room faster than she expects her to. Arizona feels her back thump hard against the door as Amelia leans into her, her lips close, but not close enough.

"I can do it, you know?" Amelia assures her, "I can save Herman." She takes her cheeks into her hands and draws Arizona close to her, and now Arizona can smell her again. That smell, that scent of hers is too alluring, and she allows herself to be drawn into the searing kiss that Amelia leads her to with her lips.

Their tongues meet amidst the silence, and Arizona can taste the coffee on her tongue, she can feel Amelia's hot hands reaching into her scrub shirt to feel her skin. Amelia's hands are hot and eager, and the graze of her fingertips prompts Arizona to grind against her. She pulls her in tighter now, wrapping her arms around Amy's body as she slips her hands into her scrub pants.

"I do," Arizona gasps out as Amelia slips her fingers inside of her, "have a surgery, though," she breathes out, the last word tampering into a soft, breathless moan. Amelia leans forward and finds her lips again and she finds herself having a hard time breathing. Amelia is devouring her breaths and her moans and her mouth, and Arizona can feel herself clenching around her fingers. She can feel her inside of her, searching deeper, plunging harder.

"It's hot that you were jealous," Amelia rasps out, when they separate their lips to breathe. "I like it a lot," she says, and Arizona feels Amelia slip her thigh in between her legs to spread them further apart. She feels Amelia slightly change her angle, and then she feels her slip deeper inside of her. "I've always wanted to fuck you against a door," Amelia gasps out, her thrusts causing Arizona to thump against the door. "Or a wall," she adds.

She wants to ask how long Amelia's wanted to fuck her in general, but she can't seem to verbalize anything. Not with Amelia doing this to her. Owning her, in a kind of way.

Arizona wonders if people can hear them, she wonders if people can hear her gasping. But she doesn't care, she can't really think. All she hears is Amelia's raspy voice against her ear and her own breathlessness. All she can feel is Amelia's lips against her neck and mouth and her fingers plunging inside of her.

She comes against her and it's hard and fast and breathless, but she likes it. It feels good. She leans against Amelia as she comes, breathing hard against her cheek. She feels Amy's lips graze her neck, and then her cheek. They find her lips and she kisses her softly, releasing a soft moan as Amelia's fingers slip out of her.

She takes Amelia's hand before she pulls away, and slips her fingers inside of her mouth. It's strange tasting herself on another woman's fingers, but she is still unsure how Amelia feels about the act, so she licks herself off of her fingers and kisses her instead.

There are no complaints when Amelia tastes her, though, just a soft sigh and an excited Amelia and it makes Arizona smile. She reaches out to fix her lab coat and smiles softly at Amelia, who in return, only watches her with soft eyes.

"You're the perfect height," she tells her.

"Are you calling me short?" Amelia asks, collecting herself.

"I'm calling you perfect."

* * *

She wonders about Owen. She wonders what Amelia will tell him. She's not really dating Amelia, but he isn't dating her, either. She's not sure about dating.

It hasn't even crossed her mind.

And it doesn't, even in the meeting. Even when Owen and Amelia and Herman are all in the room, talking about her brain tumor. Even then, it doesn't cross her mind. Because they are surgeons. First and foremost.

Owen assumes his warning chiefly tone when speaking to the three, and Herman only responds the same way she always does. Owen nods at her from time to time, and she only nods back, and she wonders what will be the outcome of all of this.

Amelia presents her case confidently. Brilliantly. She is absolutely brilliant, Arizona thinks.

But Herman makes her decision.

She will wait right until the last moment.

* * *

She sits with Amelia now, in the silence of her office with only the soft buzz of the computer in the background. The glow from the computer screen lights up Amelia's face, and Arizona can tell there's something different about it.

This is Amelia Shepherd, the brilliant neurosurgeon she sees now.

"Once it reaches the optic nerve, it's…"

"She'll know before then, won't she?" Arizona asks.

Amelia smiles. It's not soft, though, it's more like a smile she often sees when people force themselves to put on a smile when nothing is really going to go the way it's supposed to.

"Amelia?"

"Right," Amelia says. The word comes out shakily and now she can see the wavering confidence in the woman.

She is not convinced.

"You can do it, right?" Arizona asks, her voice softer than Amelia's forced smile. She takes her hand and tries to meet her eyes. She wants to tell her that she just said she could. Today, she said that. Before she kissed her. But the reality seems to draw nearer, Arizona realizes, and it makes her wonder, too.

These are different sides to Amelia, and she adores each one of them.

This is what it's like to see Amelia vulnerable, she realizes.

"Yes."

Arizona moves closer to her, and Amelia finally looks up at her. She blinks twice, and her eyes soften, and her smile comes back.

The softness is back.

"Yes."

There is a knock at the door, and Arizona lets go of Amelia's hand. She draws back when Owen enters, clad in street clothes.

"Hey," he says. He clears his throat when he sees Arizona standing there, but he only nods at her before he looks back at Amelia. "Are you leaving now?"

Amelia looks at Arizona, her eyes still soft, her voice cool. "Yeah, just give me a minute."

"Sure," Owen says, and leaves the room.

"Well," Arizona says, "Tell me how it goes."

Amelia grabs her hand before she has a chance to leave and pulls her down to her. She grabs her cheeks and kisses her softly.

"I will."

* * *

She is reading a journal in bed when Amelia enters her room. It's fairly early in the evening, and she hasn't even been home long, so she's surprised to see her. The brunette looks out of breath, carrying an overnight back and a bunch of files in her arms. She rushes over and dumps them at the side of the bed.

"Uh," Arizona starts. "Hi?"

"Hey," Amelia says. "I told Owen."

"Told him what?"

"What do you think?" Amelia grins at her, slipping off her clothes.

"That we're…?"

"That we're a thing. Some kind of thing," Amelia explains. "I don't know what kind of thing it is yet, but it's something, right?"

She digs through her bag as she says this and smiling, Arizona sits up to watch her.

"Right."

"I brought my bathrobe," she says, presenting it to her. "I need a shower."

"Okay."

Arizona watches as she hurriedly strips off her clothes and wraps her bathrobe around her. She prefers to stare at her naked, she realizes. Amy bundles her towel in her arm and watches Arizona curiously.

"What?"

"You're not coming?" she asks.

Arizona grins and slips out of the bed as Amelia heads for the shower.

It doesn't have to mean anything.

Showers are fine. She could do showers.

If Amelia is there, she could do showers all the time.


	11. Chapter 11

"What do you remember of me," she begins to ask her, "from back then?"

"Back then?" Amelia asks, though her eyes aren't on her. They instead peer at her defined clavicle, a feature that Amelia has become distinctly fond of, which she then traces gently with her finger. As if on cue and not yet familiar to increasingly familiar touch, goosebumps begin to appear on Arizona's chest, and so she moves in to kiss them softly. "Back when?" she asks, distracted, her voice masked by the skin against her lips.

Arizona seems adamant on an answer, though, and gently tips her chin up so that she's looking at her.

"Back _then."_

Amelia snorts at the seriousness of her expression, the determination in her eyes. She reaches up to kiss her on the chin, as if to rid her of the inquiry.

"Oh," she murmurs. Why is her skin so soft? "I don't remember then."

"Seriously?" Arizona sounds disappointed. She moves up to kiss the dimple on her cheek.

"I was a mess then," she whispers against her skin.

"So was I."

"Yeah?" Amelia asks, her tone uninterested, too distracted now to continue the blooming conversation. She kisses around her jaw now, but Arizona seems too lost in her own thoughts.

"Yeah. A horror show," she says. As if remembering something, she adds, "I coined it."

"What," Amelia murmurs.

"Horror show," she clarifies.

"You're so chatty, Robbins," Amelia complains, drawing back to look at her. She attempts an indignant expression, but the blonde just looks at her with wide eyes. "Can't you sense the mood?"

Arizona looks at her in confusion before wriggling her nose. Amelia snorts at the adorable gesture, and most of her just wants to cuddle now. Or kiss her. It still feels strange, she thinks, cuddling with this woman, cuddling _at all_ , really - the body warmth, the touch of smooth skin, but then Arizona lowers her voice and says, "I can always sense your mood."

The sound makes Amelia grin. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Arizona tells her, and flips her onto her back.

Amelia has never fucked so hard that the bed springs start to rock. She can't remember fucking that hard, anyway.

But she does with Arizona. She pants hard when Arizona is on top of her; she loses her breath when Arizona's fingers are deep inside of her, thrusting hard and fast, and never tiring. She loses herself when Arizona's mouth is on her. She can't recall ever panting so hard.

And she's fucked hard before.

Amelia calls it a fuck. Because that's what it is. They're fucking. It's hot and streamy and kind of passionless in the emotional sense, which is okay with her. She's playing it safe. She's learned enough to get this far.

But then it worries her, when she begins to feel the emotion that she is sure was absent.

And then, it draws her memory back and makes her realize that it's never been absent.

She allows the playfulness to take over. But then Arizona moves on top of her and she loses it.

It always happens this way.

"Now you're distracted," Arizona complains softly, still hovering on top of her.

Snapped out of her daze, she looks up at the blonde, who only gazes back at her with darkened eyes, narrowed and perceptive. "What's wrong?" she asks.

"Nothing," she whispers. And when Arizona kisses her neck, biting on the skin softly with nips and tugs, she whispers again, "nothing."

Blonde hair slowly trails down her body, and she feels her soft lips on her nipples, gently replaced with her teeth. Tugs.

Her lips are the softest, Amelia thinks.

And when Arizona goes down on her, she just has to admit it. She has to. If only in her head.

 _I'm just,_ she thinks, _crazy about you._ She tries to say it, but Arizona's tongue is delving deep inside of her and she can't vocalize anything but shaky breaths and loud moans.

Maybe the bed springs won't rock this time.

* * *

They did, though.

"Jeez!" she complains loudly. She brushes her hair back and falls onto the bed, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand before she continues. "I think I need to prepare myself before you fuck me like that again."

She receives a laugh almost immediately before the blonde gently falls onto her, her face planted against her chest.

"Too much?" Arizona asks, and she can feel her hot breath against her nipples. It's exhilarating, almost intoxicating, and makes her want it all over again.

"Too much."

"Your nipples are hard," Arizona murmurs, and Amelia feels her warm tongue on it. The light touch sends shivers through her body and makes her yearn for a taste that she hasn't sampled yet.

"Wait," Amelia demands. Arizona ignores her protest, so she tugs at her hair to bring her back to her lips.

"What," Arizona murmurs, kissing her before she has the chance to answer. Her lips are pink and bruised and soft, and they taste like her.

"Let me taste you," Amelia says against her lips.

"What?" Arizona asks. She pulls away to look carefully into Amelia's eyes and a sly grin appears on her face. "Seriously?"

Her playful disbelief makes something jump in Amelia's stomach, and it starts to irritate her, so she flips the blonde around and kisses her hard and long on her mouth. Her tongue finds hers, and she brushes against her firmly, as if taking her stance. It distracts the blonde long enough to allow Amelia to slip off her panties.

Her breasts are distracting, though, and she's annoyed and perplexed and enamored all the same, so Amelia takes her time searching them, and exploring them and feeling them against her lips and tongue. She marvels at their softness, wondering how her tongue would feel against Arizona's heat.

The anticipation drives her down the blonde's body. She likes that Arizona is loud, she likes that she trembles at her touches. She loves it when she loses her breath, when her skin becomes bright red and flushed from relentless kisses and bites.

"Have you ever," Arizona gasps out, and it sounds more like a rushed exhale than anything, "gone down on a woman before?"

"No," Amelia admits, attracted by the softness of Arizona's smooth thigh. She kisses it softly and rests her thighs against her shoulders. Arizona's scent reaches her nose now, and it spreads through her senses, and it's alluring and makes her shiver.

Why is she so alluring?

"Will you-" Arizona starts to say, as if to guide her, but she's interrupted by her own moan as Amelia places her mouth on her.

And it makes her feel so hot.

* * *

"You guys are so loud," Alex shoots, when he notices them from the nurses' station. He may as well have been shouting it across the hall, Amelia thinks, as she watches Arizona's eyes narrow defensively.

"Yeah, Karev," Arizona starts, "just yell it, why don't you."

"I'm just saying," he shrugs. "I hardly got any sleep."

"Just stomp next time," Amelia grins, linking her arm around Arizona's. The pull of her arm makes the blonde stumble over to Amelia's side, hanging onto her tighter.

But as comfortable as she seems to become being next to Amelia, her back goes rigid upon hearing, " _Robbins!_ "

"Charon awaits," Amelia announces, bowing only slightly, "enjoy your stay in the underworld."

Arizona grins and almost leans into kiss her, but she doesn't. She pulls away and smiles.

"I'm not dead yet."

* * *

"I'm so tired," Arizona groans, leaning against the computer desk as Amelia flips through her files.

She still needs to clarify information before she gets started. She needs to plan it out. Word is growing. It's insane. Monstrosity. Enormous. She thinks about adjectives to use for her presentation, but settles for the sweet simplicity of a poem, instead.

"You didn't answer my question," Amelia says, "was he her second opinion or her third?"

"I don't know, Amy," the blonde murmurs, her voice masked by her arms, "ask her yourself."

Amelia frowns and places her iPad on her desk. She sits back on her chair and watches Arizona with her head down, arms obscuring her face. She reaches out and twirls a strand of blonde hair around her finger.

"Do you want to have sex," Amelia wonders.

"Tired," the response, muffled.

"Dang," Amelia retorts, "are we at that stage already?"

Arizona sits up and sighs, brushing her hair back. She really does look tired, Amelia notices.

"She's murder, huh."

"She's a bitch sometimes," Arizona tells her, "but I just," she falters and pauses, as if searching for the right words, "I need her, you know?"

Amelia knows what it's like to need. To need incessantly. To need something. Something, all the time.

"I know."

"Anyway," she says, standing up, "I have to go talk to April and Jackson now."

Amelia nods as Arizona leaves the room, forgetting to even kiss her. Such fatigue reels anyone into singularity, Amelia thinks, and she wonders why she is not more concentrated on the surgery ahead of her the way Arizona is concentrated on hers.

She realizes that Arizona has the confidence. She wonders if she's there yet.

She has to be. For Arizona. For everyone. For herself.

The blonde was tired.

She stands up and quickly runs out of her office, following Arizona's retreating form down the hallway.

"Arizona!" she calls.

The blonde seems surprised when she turns around, and her hair whisks quickly and it makes Amelia remember things she is sure had been forgotten.

"You're amazing," she lets her know.

The blonde looks at her with delighted wonderment before smiling. And though it's the hallway, she cups Amelia's cheeks and kisses her softly. Amelia stands rigidly, but finds herself melting to the touch. Her lips are soft and alluring and she's sure she'll be drawn to them forever. Arizona's fingertips thumb her cheeks gently before she releases her, a dimpled grin appearing on her face. She says nothing, and simply turns around and all Amelia sees is a whisk of blonde hair as Arizona turns around the corner and then she remembers.

* * *

Later, she forgets.

It doesn't take long before Amelia slams her office door in frustration. Her iPad lands hard on the table, and she has to check it quickly before settling down herself. She doesn't want to break important surgical plans.

She needs to break something else. Something useless.

So she looks over to her computer and watches the stale, bored boxes that sit stacked upon each other. It doesn't take much contemplating before she kicks the boxes straight to the floor. She was aiming for the wall.

The first falls, and she hears kitchen ware rattle. The second falls, some clothes. Pink and blue. Fuck. The third falls and she reaches out to catch it, but she doesn't and glass tumbles out before shattering noisily and deliberately onto the floor.

Shit, she thinks.

Those aren't her boxes.

Fuck.

She looks down to the floor and watches as shattered glass kisses the tips of her shoes.

* * *

_"What are all these?"_

_"Cases. Fetuses. Each card represents a fetus that I'm going to teach Robbins how to fix."_

_She looked at her. Arizona looked up from her notes and back at her. Lifted her pen up. Beamed. Winked. She wanted her just then, even with her surly mentor in the room._

_Those dimples, she thought. God._

_"Then I estimate what we can get to in the time I have."_

_She looked at what her hands were clasping. More index cards. More Robbins to the rescue._

_"And those?"_

_"These? No, these are the ones that I could save if I, uh, had time."_

_She paused. She sensed the doubt. It's in the tone, in the look._

_Herman looked at her then. "You should just think of them as babies who will die if it turns out that you're full of crap and can't take out my tumor," she said, simply. Nonchalantly. She wonders how the blonde deals with her cynicism._

_She didn't know what to say. Amelia was startled. She nodded, slowly. "No pressure," she joked. She's good with the jokes._

_"Oh, no," Herman said. "Pressure. I mean, we're on a timeline here, right?" she said. "Try being me."_

_Arizona had to look up. She felt her eyes on her just then. Skeptical eyes, worried eyes. For who, she wondered. Who. Arizona agreed and she knew it._

_There were doubts. There are always doubts._

_Amelia looked at her skeptically, though Arizona only eyed her mentor in the same manner._

_She looked at Herman and back at Arizona. "Okay," she laughed, backing away. Her place was not everywhere. Certainly not here. She stepped back again and turned around and felt Arizona's eyes on her retreating back._

_Doubts, doubts, doubts._

_She needed to break something._

* * *

"I can do it," she tells Arizona, when she hears her enter the office.

"I know you can."

"You don't believe me," she determines, looking up at Arizona. Her eyes are hesitant. She's grown to know this look.

"You know I do," Arizona reasons, "I wouldn't be pushing it if I didn't."

"You wouldn't be pushing it if I weren't her only option," Amelia retorts. "You don't believe I can do it."

"Amelia, please don't-" she starts, but then she notices the mess on the floor and stops herself. Her eyes survey the glass carefully before landing on Amelia. Wide, blue eyes. Disbelief. It's a new look. "You destroyed my boxes?"

Amelia feels silly. She wants to stop her, she wants to go back.

"I thought they were mine."

Arizona says nothing and the beeping of her pager interrupts the silence.

"I have to go," Arizona tells her.

She goes.

* * *

She doesn't see her after that, though she's seen Herman countless times. Arizona was busy with Jackson and April and Herman. Which is fine, Amelia reasons. She is not obligated. Certainly not to her.

Surgeons are only obligated to their professions.

But then Jackson and April's baby dies. Everyone lights candles in hope for happiness, unsure of what that might be. They needed to do something. So they do this.

Amelia does it first. She suggests it and she does it and breathes heavily and lets go. She wants to let go.

Something about this day brings terror to her, and she can't quite verbalize why. Verbalizing the terror is always so very hard for her. She's better at laughing. She likes to laugh.

She wants to laugh now, but she can't. Not with parents in mourning. Not with another child dead.

It's a day of mourning and the hospital grows quiet.

It puts her on edge throughout the day. The silence makes her remember.

No brain, but brilliant. Nobody, but a hero.

Her superhero baby.

She tries to fall asleep to the flickering of the candles, but she can't. She sits in silence and finds solace. It's there, somewhere, she thinks. Somewhere in the form of organs and ashes and breathing, living people.

Superhero.

She hears the creaking of the chapel's doors. Footsteps. One sound lighter than the other. One real, one hollow.

Arizona.

Amelia closes her eyes and takes a breath and she feels Arizona standing and watching her before taking a seat beside her.

Even with her eyes closed she knows the blonde is looking at the candles.

"They're all lit," she notes.

"Yeah."

"Beautiful," Arizona says.

They sit there, and Amelia breathes. She smells her. Smells the place. The memories filter out. She doesn't want them to go, not yet.

But she needs to.

"My baby died," she tells her.

A moment. A pause. She feels Arizona's hand take her own. She holds it tight, but somehow, the touch feels light to her. So light.

This woman makes her feel light. She feels the blonde's gaze on her before she turns to look ahead.

She waits.

"Mine too."

Amelia has to look at her now, she has to rip her closed eyes away from the candles and open them to look at Arizona. There aren't tears in her eyes, though, just a glossy look that kind of makes her tremble.

She feels her hand against her own again, and now it's not light or heavy, it's just warm.

"I break things," Amelia says, "so I don't break myself."

"I know."

"I'm sorry," she says, and she means everything.

"I know," Arizona says. She tilts toward her only slightly and Amelia feels her head on her shoulder.

They stay like that, and eventually Amelia leans into her too.

Her hand never lets go.

And it makes her feel so warm.

* * *

They spend a couple of hours doing nothing. The television is blaring nonsense in front of them, and Arizona seems concentrated on it, though Amelia knows she isn't. Amelia has her head on the blonde's lap, while Arizona's fingers gently thread through her hair. Her blue eyes look dark from this angle, and Amelia watches as she blinks. She counts the blinks. Her breathing is relaxed.

And she remembers.

"Back then," she starts. Arizona turns to look at her, her blue eyes cast down and focused on her own. Her heart wavers for a minute, and she pauses to reach up and twirl a blonde strand of hair around her finger.

She remembers the newness of it all - the school, the drugs, and the blonde bouncy hair, and Arizona's heelys, and how it was the topic of conversation - the blonde prodigy with child's shoes. The restlessness of her hasty feet. The sharp alluring eyes, only dimmed by loss years later.

The only significant moment, she tries to remember. She only recalls blonde hair whisking away. Away from her. She only watched.

"Your feet never touched the ground," she tells her.

But that is what she remembers. Watching her glide away, with her feet never touching the ground.

She hesitates. She remembers Herman. She wonders what tomorrow will bring. What the days ahead will leave behind for her.

If nothing, she hopes it's Arizona.

Just her would be enough.

"That's what I remember."


	12. Chapter 12

A connection is not something that happens often with Arizona. Forging a bond is not based on simplicity, but only privacies that are shed to those who are lucky, or brave, or perhaps _willing_ enough to unearth it from her. It comes unconsciously; a relationship is formed by an often inexplicable understanding that develops overtime. That's how Arizona's relationships began. That's what she knew about herself.

That's what she _thought_ she knew. Because that's how it always was.

That's how it was with Callie. She just _got_ her. Of course, it changed. The rules changed because she changed.

But the fact remained: some people just _got_ her, which then led to her own pursuit of that person.

She thinks back now, and wonders if she _did_ pursue Amelia.

The woman got her. It didn't take long. It just happened. And when it did, they hit it off.

Of course, there was estrangement. It's still there, and she knows it. But it's lighter now. It's not heavy anymore. She never feels heavy anymore. She doesn't doubt her affections for her.

She looks at her now, and wonders how it all happened, how it happened so quickly.

She was just enchanted by Amelia. She still is.

Maybe always, she thinks, as she watches the brunette blink in slow concentration.

Now she looks at her a little more closely this time, and smiles while Amelia scans her eyes slowly and carefully over the flimsy paper she holds in her grasp. Arizona listens as she reads aloud and her tone is soft and hesitant, and almost shy, as though she were reciting to her a confession, or something terribly personal.

Her lips are alluring when she reads, Arizona thinks. It's in the way she softly puckers them, preparing to enunciate a word. It's the way she draws her breath softly, and yet slowly enough that she can hear the slight intake of breath. There is hesitation in her tone, perhaps because it is in front of Arizona and not an audience, yet she still maintains that air of confidence that has always charmed the blonde.

"'Life will out,'" she concludes softly, with a tone of finality.

Arizona smiles and waits for Amelia to look up at her. "What does that mean?"

The brunette's eyes only widen, and the hesitation in her eyes completely vanish. "You're never heard of ' _Truth will out_ '?" Amelia asks, and she seems surprised.

"No."

"It means the truth will always come out. I just changed 'truth' to 'life.' Not like, 'life will always come out,'" she pauses, seemingly confused by her own words, "but life will always… well, because, you know," she stammers again, her gaze dropping to the paper again. But this time, her eyes gloss over and she looks different. Arizona reaches out and lifts her chin slightly so that she looks at her again. And again, her eyes seem to glow with recognition. She continues, "Because life always goes on. No matter what."

She smiles for a moment and drops her hand from Amelia's chin down to her thigh, squeezing it gently with her hand. The neurosurgeon follows only with her eyes, as if caught off guard. Arizona reaches over to press her lips against Amelia's closed and startled mouth. The woman seems flustered, and she laughs when Arizona smiles coyly at her.

Arizona smiles back and something about the phrase Amelia has chosen resonates with her. But she longs to prolong. "A poem?" Her tone is incredulous and she's mostly lowering her voice to tease the relentless teaser. "You don't strike me as the literary type."

Amelia scoffs. "It's not poetry. It's Shakespeare."

"Which is… poetry."

"A play! _Which is_ alluding to a larger picture," she retorts.

"Which is _kind of_ like poetry," Arizona reasons. "Besides, aren't his plays written in couplets?"

Amelia slaps the paper down on the couch, seemingly finished with the banter. "Okay, Arizona. You paid attention in English class. I get it. I'm talking about a tumor here. Let's get real now."

Though her banter is playful, Amelia adopts her indignant tone, but Arizona stops her before she can begin.

"You're brilliant," she tells her.

"What?" the neurosurgeon asks, surprised and hopeful. "Really?" She seems shy now and clears her throat, attempting to retain her brash playfulness. "You liked the speech?"

"Absolutely," Arizona smiles, and slips the paper from her hands.

She surprises herself when she pushes Amelia further into the couch they've been sitting on, crawling onto her lap eagerly. Amelia is taken aback, but lends her thighs to Arizona, drawing her hips closer to her own. Arizona's lips are drawn to her just the same, and she slips her tongue into Amelia's mouth before she can say another word.

Amy just gasps into her mouth and clutches her hips tighter with her hands. Arizona can feel the scrape of her fingertips against the fabric of her pants. She breaks apart to catch her breath and looks down at Amelia, whose eyes remained closed. She opens them slightly and lowers her head, as if woken up from a daydream. "Why'd you stop?" she asks.

"No reason," Arizona answers, holding either side of her face with her hands. She runs her thumbs against the softness of Amelia's cheeks and smiles. "Just…" she tries to say, but she can't find the words she wants to say. She looks down at Amelia and strokes her cheeks again, marveling at her while she only stares back in a kind of dazed, aroused confusion.

"What?" Amelia asks.

She presses her lips against Amelia's again, silencing her confusion and feeling the heat rise in her body. She has been feeling steady anticipation lately, and now she knows it is because of Amelia that she feels it. She's been feeling so many things.

The couch starts to rock as she moves frantically on top of Amelia, pushing up her scrub shirt only slightly to feel the skin against her hands. She feels a gasp against her lips and Amelia tries to pull away as she continues. "Hey," she murmurs, "wait, this isn't a good place-"

"No one's gonna come," Arizona says, as she pushes her hand to feel Amelia's hot skin. The brunette concedes and allows her to, and she finds herself getting lost in her lips and her skin, but then she realizes that making out in the Attendings' lounge is probably not a good idea, after all.

"Oh," she hears. It's an unamused _oh_ , an _oh_ she recognizes very well, an _oh_ she never expected interruption from. She pulls away from Amelia's lips but doesn't get off her lap or turn around to face the door. Instead, she stares at Amelia, who looks over to the door with wide eyes.

"Uh, Doctor Herman," Amelia says.

"Well," Herman chuckles, "when you're done, let Robbins know that Stone's surgery has been moved up. We're prepping in thirty."

Arizona hears the door shut and continues to watch Amy's wide eyes as she stares at the door for another moment before looking up at Arizona, but she only laughs when she notices her expression. "You should see the look on your face."

"I am…" Arizona murmurs, feeling the blood flare against her cheeks, "uh, humiliated?" she wonders.

Amelia only grins at her and wraps her arms around her waist. "I think the word you're looking for is embarrassed."

"Right."

"I told you it was a bad idea."

Arizona only groans and places her forehead against Amelia's shoulder.

"Shut up."

* * *

"Well," she starts, "I'd say we're even."

The surgical mask does not obscure the smile that is evident in her mentor's eyes, and she begins to feel her cheeks flaring again.

"I don't know what you mean."

Herman laughs, and the sharp exhale of air resembles a kind of laugh that sounds unconvinced, a dubious laugh. "And you gave me such crap for Graham."

"That was different," Arizona explains, "and he was your fellow."

"How was that different?" Herman asks, meeting the blonde's gaze with her sharp eyes. "You two were practically in the same position as Graham and me when I walked in on you."

"Please, Doctor Herman," Arizona groans, embarrassed at the looks she knows she's getting now. The conversations shared in the OR breach personal matters. "You didn't see anything."

"Neither did you," Herman points out.

"But it's different!"

"How?" Herman says, and she quickly comes to shallow reasoning, "oh, well just because Graham has a pen-"

The fellow interjects, "That's not what I meant."

"Then what?"

"She's my girlfriend."

* * *

She paces around the lounge excitedly, her pulse thundering loudly in her ears as she awaits Amelia's arrival.

She clutches the paper in her hand and looks it over again, nodding to herself before folding it and then unfolding it.

Should she show her? That would be wise. But she needs to see it, too.

She hasn't even seen it. Not in person. She just likes the idea of it.

All of the opportunities it presents. It's refreshing. And new. And lovely. Like Amelia.

And her heart leaps when Amelia opens the door and closes it behind her, not moving, but just staring at her as she struts around again.

"You called, my sunshine?" Amy asks, eyeing her curiously, a hint of amusement in her demeanor.

"So," Arizona starts, continuing to pace around, unnerved by how unnerved she is. "I've been thinking, you know, that I'm tired of people interrupting us and I'm tired of sleeping on couches and Karev's old mattress and sneaking in and out of the McDreamy palace," she rambles on, stopping when she notices Amelia leaning against the closed door of the lounge with her arms crossed and a smirk on her face.

Arizona knows that she's already noticed the paper that she has clutched in her hands. She's just waiting.

So she blurts it out.

"I'm getting an apartment. Wanna move in with me?"

Amelia doesn't even feign surprise, her smile grows wider until she has to laugh. So she does and leans back against the door and says, "No way."

Arizona is somehow unsurprised, but the rejection still shakes her. She feels another sensation in her chest, and it feels like disappointment. Soaring disappointment. "Why?" she deflates.

Amelia rejects it so easily.

"Because we're having sex," she says, simply. She walks over to Arizona and takes the paper from her hand, looking over the strangely shaped apartment photos.

"So?"

"And we'll be room mates."

"So?" Arizona says, taking the paper away from her. "You're my girlfriend."

Amelia looks at her, startled, almost, and yet somehow overjoyed. She smiles and opens her mouth to say something, but it falters and she laughs. She looks down to her feet and back up at Arizona. "I'm your girlfriend?" Amelia asks in surprise.

Arizona turns away from her and takes a seat on the couch, offering her outstretched hand to Amelia. "Aren't you?"

She smiles and takes her hand, allowing Arizona to pull her to the couch to sit beside her. "I guess I am, then."

"Okay," Arizona laughs, once Amelia is comfortably seated next to her. "Then move in with me."

"Nope," she refuses. "You lesbians are too fast."

"Oh, jeez," Arizona rolls her eyes, "I'm not-"

Amelia interjects, "Besides, you meant it as a room mate thing."

"What?"

"You mean it as a room mate thing. Not as a girlfriend thing," Amelia explains. "You just realized that I'm your girlfriend, didn't you?"

She was right. Earlier, when she stared at her. That was it.

But maybe it's more than that. It's not about that, she thinks. Too much would have to be revealed. There is love in something like that, she remembers.

"So did you!" Arizona exclaims pointedly.

"Right," Amelia affirms, "So I think it's clear we're not ready for that yet."

Arizona only frowns, yet something about Amelia's rejection feels relieving, and she doesn't know why. Maybe it's assurance. She's always moved too fast. Too fast into everything. She's still not used to having those conversations. The ones that ask _Where do we go from here_ \- the ones that have always destroyed her in its unrelenting pace.

Still, it is nice. Still, she is relieved.

"But I love it," she complains softly, staring at the crumpled paper in her hands.

"That doesn't mean you need to give it up."

"That's true," she considers. Maybe she will get the apartment.

"I'll come over."

"You'll obviously stay in my room, won't you?" Arizona asks.

"I'm sure someone is bound to crash at your place eventually," Amelia reasons. "People are always on the move around this hospital. So, yeah, I'll stay in your room and you can kick me off into the guest room when you get pissed."

"Who says that will happen?"

Amelia shrugs. "It's bound to."

"You're just prepared for everything, huh?"

"Gotta be. 'Life will out,'" she says nonchalantly.

Arizona only laughs. Forever, the charm. "Well, when I get it, will you help me move in at least?"

"That, I'll do."

* * *

"I never see you," Amelia tells her, as she is shoved against the door of an on-call room.

"Amelia," Arizona groans. "You're just as busy as I am."

"Yeah, but," the shorter woman whines, "what, you don't care?"

"Of course I care," the blonde says, as Amelia pulls her hand towards the bed.

"You're a stone-cold lesbian, Robbins."

"What?"

"Does that make you angry?"

"What?" she asks again, pulling her hand away. "What's gotten into you?"

"I'm feeling pissy. You've pissed me off."

"Amelia," Arizona rolls her eyes. "I don't have time for this."

"Am I making you angry?" she asks, pulling her hand again. She sits on the bed and tugs on Arizona's wrist, and the blonde tumbles onto her. "Are you going to reprimand me?"

"What?" Arizona says. "No!"

"But," she continues, and now Arizona hears the low, husky tone of her voice. "You seem like the type."

Arizona peels her scrub pants off before taking Amelia's shirt off and is pleasantly surprised to find her without a bra. "Well," she smiles, placing her hands on her breasts, "you do seem like you need some discipline."

"Ooh," Amelia grins, "I like this role-play."

The role-play is reversed, though, despite Arizona's position on top of Amelia. The brunette doesn't give her a chance, she is too busy touching her, too busy running her warm hands over Arizona's increasingly hot thighs. Amelia's touches are light and feathery and she feels herself tingling from the sensation, her body is already completely heated.

She listens to the rush, the rush of it all, accompanied by the blood boiling in her ears and the heat enveloping her body, and she marvels at the feeling, the overpowering emotion she gets when she's with her.

Amelia plunges into her before she can say anything, before she can even prepare herself, and she collapses on top of her and pushes herself against the brunette's thrusting fingers.

"Move against me," Amelia tells her, and she does just that. It's difficult with this angle, but Amelia's fingers so slide easily into her. She pushes herself harder against Amelia's hand and lifts herself so that she's properly hovering over her.

Amelia's eyes are steady and unrelenting, and she begins to thrust against Arizona again, clutching her waist and keeping her movements in control. The thrusts are deep and hard and she can feel herself clenching around her, but it's too slow.

"Let me come," Arizona gasps.

"Nope," Amelia whispers against her ear. "I don't get to see you."

"T-th-that's… not," Arizona pants, biting her neck in the process. Amelia gasps at the sensation and thrusts harder into her. She feels herself clench tightly around Amelia, almost glad for the roughness. But the feeling is not enough. She needs a different angle. "God, Amelia," she pants. "Fuck me."

"Then it'll be over."

"It's," Arizona gasps, trying to finish her sentence. It tampers off into a moan, though, and her voice becomes lost in the sensations.

"I need you to feel it," she feels Amelia murmur against her skin, "feel me."

"I do," she pants.

She thought she would be role-playing, not devoting her entire self to Amelia. She feels consumed, enveloped, and completely hot, almost on fire. Amelia flips her over and slides down her body, fastening her mouth against her heat while her fingers thrust suddenly fast and hard.

And when she comes, Amelia doesn't stop, but continues, slipping her fingers out and devouring her with her mouth. Amelia stops eventually, though, when she's made sure that the blonde has come again.

She is blurry and panting when Amelia reaches her line of sight again, and she just looks at her with soft eyes. Not teasing. Just… soft.

"I do."

* * *

Her days run fine, they run smoothly and she rarely sees Amelia, but she's high on surgery, high on saving babies, high on being the savior and befriending Herman, so it doesn't cross her mind. It all feels good for a moment, good _in_ the moment, and she is living life like she did so many years ago - whisking through it and getting what she wants, like an unstoppable force.

So it shocks her when her patient loses her child, when her patient breaks down in tears, and she can't help but let her own out as she closes the door and blinks back the threatening flood in her eyes. There was blood for the patient, but not for her. There was no blood.

There was nothing.

There was no heart beat.

And a beating heart means everything, sometimes.

Herman barks at her to stop sobbing, and tells her that Castillo is up on the list. It was just one loss that didn't matter anymore. And when Herman storms out, she sits on the couch by herself and stares at the color-coded board that, she now realizes, is slowly becoming monochromatic.

The changes are coming so quickly, she thinks, and she lays on the couch and turns on her side. She pulls out her phone and sends a message.

 _Come to me,_ she writes.

She is mostly sleeping when it happens, sleep sobbing, maybe, because she finds hair being stroked, she finds herself staining the other woman's shirt with her tears.

Still, she finds comfort in Amelia's arms.

"She lost the baby," she whispers against her.

She feels a kiss on her forehead and " _I'm sorry,"_ is whispered back to her. It's painful, and yet Amelia's stroking of her hair and her soft breathing somehow sings her to sleep.

Arizona wakes up to find herself buried in Amelia's arms, wound comfortably against her body. Her legs are intertwined with her own, and she is so close that she can hear her heart beating against her ear.

She listens to the drone of the air conditioner in the lounge and opts to block out the sound, to drown it with a rhythm she much rather prefers, so she nestles her head closer to Amelia's chest, closer to her heart. And when she hears it beating, the sound is slow and steady and calming to her. And she finds herself happy to be buried in her arms, pleased to be against her in this moment.

She thinks back to her lost child, her failed marriage, and her dying mentor, and she is struck with the impermanence of it all, this everything she still tries to understand.

Life always changes, yet life will out. Always.

What will come from this point on will change everything, she thinks, and she buries her head against Amelia's neck, as if shielding herself from it.

The woman doesn't groan from the fierce embrace, though, she just wakes up, unperturbed and unflinching. Arizona feels her wrap her arms tightly around her, and she feels her warm breathing against her scalp.

"You okay?" a raspy voice inquires.

The sleep laden tone will always charm her.

"I don't think so."

"It will be okay," Amelia convinces her soothingly. She feels her warm fingers thread through her hair.

"Why?" Arizona asks. "'Life will out'?"

She feels a puff of warm air against her scalp as Amelia lets out a soft chuckle at her remark.

"Yes. 'Life will out,'" she echoes, "and you are brave."

"You're the brave one."

"I try," Amelia confesses, "but it's hard."

"I know."

A pause. She listens to the sound of her beating heart. She feels her fingertips against her forehead.

"The baby," Amelia starts.

"I was sad about it," Arizona confesses, her voice muffled against Amelia's neck. "I will always be sad about it."

Amelia seems to wait for something more, but nothing comes. Arizona feels Amelia pull her closer, pressing her forehead against her own. Her honest eyes are bright and tired.

"When you can't take it, come find me," she tells her. "My arms will always be open for you."

* * *

"The bird flew away," she realizes, lifting a hand to shield the sun from her eyes.

The sky is so vividly blue and she's never really taken the time to sit down and acknowledge it. It's strange to do things with a dying person. There are so many things you see for the first time. You learn to take in everything.

"So if I die," Nicole tries again.

"Don't," Arizona warns. "You won't."

"Your girlfriend is not God, Robbins," Herman retorts and decidedly continues, "If I'm corked, pull the plug."

"Please stop."

"You need to learn how to take loss."

"I've lost enough in my life to know what it feels like."

She can feel Herman smiling at her as she stares up at the sky, tired, and suddenly blinded by the brightness of it all.

"It all keeps existing, though," Herman reasons. "Even when it's gone."

* * *

Callie inquires and it still somehow makes Arizona's heart tremble. She is on her way to Herman, and on her way to Amelia, but Callie stops her in her tracks and seems to assess her with her eyes. Arizona knows the look. She assumes Callie is on her way to see Sofia, but then she stops her and presses a hand against her shoulder.

They opt for a smile as a greeting and both look through the window of the daycare at their child.

Callie turns her gaze back first.

"Sofia likes her," Callie says. "Mentioned her."

"Huh?" Arizona asks. "Who?"

Callie looks flustered, and glances down at the blonde's feet before looking at her again. Her eyes are more bold this time. Honest, somehow. And most of all, concerned. "Amelia," she says. "You're dating now, aren't you?"

"H-how did you know?"

Callie chuckles. "It's obvious."

"Callie-"

"You seem happy," she interrupts. "I'm glad. It's nice, I mean, that you're happy. You're happy, aren't you?"

"Yes."

Callie stops herself to smile and contemplates more before she begins again. "Is it because of Doctor Herman? Or Amelia?"

Arizona frowns inwardly at the question, and really wonders at it, but she retains herself as she replies confidentially, "Both."

Callie smiles and nods, unwilling to meet her eyes. "Herman. She's sick."

"She'll be okay."

"Are you okay?" Callie asks, and she can see the concern again.

"I'm fine…" she murmurs, and she can't help but chuckle at her gentleness. "Callie?"

"Sorry, it's just… old habits, you know?"

Arizona nods, and now she looks to her own feet. She doesn't feel flustered at all, nor at a loss for words. It feels right, though maybe she'll always feel strange around her.

"Will Amelia-" Callie starts again, but Arizona stops her.

"She will. She can," she says, thinking back to that recital. "I believe that she can."

* * *

She is at the McDreamy palace now, a place she once regarded with esteem, and then dread, and then affection once again. Places never remain the same. They are all victims to the motion of time. But now she lays in bed in the Guest room, once Cristina's room, now Amelia's room, and stares up at the ceiling with her.

They lay side-by-side, a thin sheet covering their torsos. Underneath the sheet, she has her fingers intertwined with Amelia's.

"It's soon," Arizona says.

"Friday," Amelia clarifies.

"That's _really_ soon."

She feels Amelia let go of her hand and turn on her side. The younger McDreamy lightly pokes on her cheek to get her attention, and she turns her head and looks at her.

Amelia's eyes are dark and glossy, and it makes her want to silence her. But she lets her say it.

"I don't want to make this serious."

And like a storm, the thundering in her chest begins. "What?"

"This. This, you know?"

Amelia turns her gaze to Arizona's chest and avoids her eyes. But she knows. She'll always know now.

"What happened during your presentation?"

"Nothing," she says quickly. But something about the way her eyebrows furrow makes Arizona press on. She turns to her fully now, and presses her forehead against Amelia's.

"Tell me."

"If Callie-"

"Why Callie?" she asks, knowingly. "It's not about Callie, Amelia," she tells her, and she feels her chest settling down. The thumping is heavy, but it's not the same. It doesn't shake her up. "It's about me. It's about Herman. It's about you."

Amelia says nothing, she just continues to avert her gaze. Arizona places her hand on her cheek and brushes the hair away from her face. She says it again, "It's about me and it's about you."

Amelia lets out a soft laugh, almost of relief, she thinks, as she continues to stroke her cheek.

But then she speaks.

"You mean it's about us."

"Us?" Arizona asks, halting her gesture.

And her gaze is finally met.

The eyes that meet her own are confident again, and brilliant. Always brilliant.

"Us. Like an item. You _are_ my girlfriend."

Arizona smiles. "I thought you just said you didn't want to make this serious."

"Girlfriend," Amelia snorts. "That doesn't mean I'm calling U-Haul, Robbins."

"That's awful," Arizona laughs. "You're awful."

Soft laughter fills the room as Amelia molds herself against Arizona's body.

"She's worried," Arizona reasons. "An old habit. I'm sorry for what she did during your presentation."

Amelia waits before speaking again. "I get it, she's worried about you. That'll never change," she continues, and this time she pulls Arizona against her, and on top of her, and Arizona finds herself looking into Amelia's confident guise.

"But let me worry about you now."

* * *

The next time Arizona finds her, she is frantic. She needs to save Castillo, she needs to save another baby. To make up for all the other lost ones, all of the lost time. She finds Amelia, and almost yells at her, failing to realize the cold, still expression on the neurosurgeon's face.

"Arizona," she warns, and the tone of her voice makes her realize that they are standing only footsteps apart in a cold room, staring at a scan of a catastrophic tumor with only a glass wall separating them from the surly, dying Nicole Herman. It's time, she knows, and Amelia looks hesitant, but she can see that she wants to be brave. She watches as her girlfriend nods at her and leaves to prepare the OR.

When she speaks to Herman, she hears nothing new, only a recital of directions that have since been drilled into her head.

She escorts her gurney down the hall, as though she might never see it again, as though this would be the last time.

"Nicole," she says. "Nicole."

"Let's get you inside," Amelia says.

She doesn't look at Amelia, but she knows her eyes. They are puffy, but resilient. She is resilient. She is brave and strong and almost everything in this moment.

She looks down to Herman, who takes her hand in her own.

"This is where you trust her. You need to trust her," Arizona says. "This is the point where you trust her."

The surgical mask is put on and Nicole leaves consciousness.

Arizona looks over to Amelia, and Amelia nods back.

She is not her girlfriend.

Not in this moment.

Now she is a surgeon.

The brilliant neurosurgeon, Amelia Shepherd.

"Go save that baby."


	13. Chapter 13

Herman comes to her in a daze, and she knows it's time, though she begins to fight it. She is not ready yet, she knows this. Yet the woman's vision is blurred and she steadies herself with her hands against the wall. Amelia takes her hand and leads her for a scan.

And she knows by the scan that it's time. It's time, despite anything she wants to do now, any last minute preparations that she had in mind. Any last consults. It no longer matters now. It's time.

As if on cue, Arizona comes to her hastily, demanding Herman, reprimanding Amelia for her silence, for her stoicism in that moment.

But Arizona understands when she looks, and Amelia can feel her gaze boring into her.

_"Are you ready?"_

Sure, she must say. She has to be.

 _"Amelia…"_ she warns, or maybe asks, maybe pleads. She can't absorb the sound.

Unsure of what she asks, she tells her _yes_ anyway and goes to prepare the OR. This moment is Arizona's now. She is only the surgeon.

But she has to stop at the restroom. She doesn't really need to use it, or maybe she does, but first, she draws herself to the mirror, she walks to it and stares at herself. Her gaze wanders to everywhere but her eyes. She looks to her neck and finds a fading bite that Arizona left not too long ago. It was once red against her skin, now existing only as a bruise that begins to disappear. She wishes to sustain it.

She traces it with the tip of her finger, as though she can still feel the teeth marks, a symbol of something real, something that could be felt. A keepsake, from her. She looks at it and feels it and relishes it, savoring all that it means in this moment.

She wonders if Arizona will still be hers if she fails.

She shrugs the thought away, lifting her shoulders as if to hasten the departure. She will not fail.

She notices a wrinkle, newly formed, just beside her mouth. She wonders when it happened. She wonders if it's because she's been smiling too much, because she's been too happy, too confident.

She looks at her eyes now - tired and bright, glistening brightly. She looks in the mirror, and thinks about how much she's slept. Not much.

All her time has been spent with a tumor and Arizona.

Now she can feel it. It's a rush in her chest that rises to her throat. She leans over and clutches the sink. The glistening in her eyes become tears.

And now she cries. She has to. She doesn't want to break her pride.

She doesn't want to break Arizona.

She has something good. She doesn't want to lose it.

She doesn't want to lose.

So she cries. And she takes a breath and stands before the mirror and looks proud, despite her watering eyes. She draws back and straightens her posture, and with two hands on her hips and her chin pointed upward, she takes a deep breath and revels in the everything in her life.

"Superhero."

* * *

She watches from afar as Arizona escorts Herman's gurney down the hall. She seems to be speaking frantically, looking up sporadically, before looking down again to, it seems, reproach Nicole's pessimism. She doesn't look at Amelia as Herman's gurney is turned, and Amelia fails to look at her, too. Because they both know.

"Let's get you inside."

The next time she sees her, it is only to nod. Only to admire. Only to transfer confidence, to applaud bravery.

"Go save that baby."

Arizona turns to leave her, and then she is gone. She stands with Edwards, and they both bask in their heroism, in what they can do now.

It happens faster than she expects it to, and now she opens up Nicole's skull with Stephanie beside her and a sea of doctors peering down at her.

 _No pressure,_ she thinks.

She looks up only briefly, and notices the people she expects. The surgeons that are in rotation, stopping by before their next big surgery. April. Jackson. Meredith.

Callie.

_Do you have any help?_

* * *

The second hour, she begins to wonder, to wonder if she does have help, and she looks up, and finds that Arizona is not there, and realizes that she shouldn't be there, anyway.

She knows that she will not see her, that she will not see her for a while, or perhaps not at all in the days to come if she were to fail in this moment. Arizona would not blame her, she knows, but she also knows better than to allow herself to fall for the charm of romance over reality.

Reality wins, always. And it's always conquered her.

So she will not let the charm overtake her, though she almost did, though somehow, she always does. And yet, being with her feels right.

She feels good.

She knows that she can thrive with her if she allows herself to. If she allows herself to _not_ fail, to be better than she is now.

But a part of her is afraid to acknowledge what is already there, sinking into her slowly. She knows it's there, just like she knew that the attraction was there from the start.

But just like the attraction, she knows, also, that she can save Herman. That confidence was there from the start. The startling revelation that ushered her into a whirlwind romance.

She smiles to herself, chucking at her own thoughts. _Whirlwind romance_. She wonders how far in she is. She can feel Edwards' gaze boring into her as she inquires. "What's funny?"

"Me," Amelia tells her. "Edwards, isn't the glow of this tumor beautiful?"

"Astounding," she agrees, almost skeptically.

"Do you think I'm losing it?"

"Sometimes," Edwards considers. "But that's what makes you brilliant."

_Brilliant._

She raises her voice. She knows everyone listens.

But she asks, anyway.

"Can someone update me on Robbins' surgery?"

"She and Doctor Bailey are feuding at the moment," someone informs her. "Karev is being called in."

"For what?"

"Consult."

"Keep me updated."

She knows Stephanie wants to berate her, for asking about her girlfriend, for not being fully attentive, though she is, though she's clearly hit a road block with this tumor, though she is beginning to doubt herself and she knows it's being sensed. As though people always knew her.

* * *

The sixth hour, Meredith reports Arizona's success, and Amelia grins and basks in her brilliance, in her endurance.

She is relieved, for a while.

The tumor gets worse. Her strategies are failing. Everyone has sensed it now. Stephanie inquires. The balcony is muted.

Arizona does not show.

* * *

The eighth hour, she remembers the hesitation. She remembers how she felt when Callie challenged her, how her simple words opened up a world of chaos inside of her.

She remembers how it left her doubtful. How she called Addison only to receive more doubts.

_"Robbins?" she asked, incredulously. "You can't be serious."_

_She heard the harshness in her tone, the muffle of the phone connection somehow accentuating the effect. "What do you mean?"_

_"I don't believe you," she said, sharply._

_Amelia scoffed. "What, Addie?" she asked. "What don't you believe?"_

_"It's…" Addison started, at a loss for words, it seemed, "quite a change."_

_Something about it infuriated her. Maybe it was the tone. Maybe it was everyone else's doubts. She was always defending herself._

_"What, that I like a woman? This is real. Do you know how many girls I flirted with when-"_

_"Of course, Amy. That's not what I meant." Addison cut her off. "I remember. I was there for that," she said pointedly. "I was there for everything."_

_The last of her words brought Amelia back to another time, so far away, yet somehow undeniably close. The turmoil inside of her._

_"Right," she said. "So what's the problem with this?"_

_"She just got divorced," Addison pointed out again._

_"It's been some time," Amelia retorted._

_She heard muffling in the background, a child's bantering. Henry in the background, her godson, her little troublemaker. She toned herself down just then, and tried to become more reasonable._

_"So she's serious about you?"_

_"Can you quit basing this off Torres?" she defended, despite Addison not asking about Callie, though she told her of the incident during her presentation, which ultimately prompted the phone call. Upon remembering, she tried to draw herself back into the point. "Besides, I called to talk about the surgery, not this."_

_"What is 'this' that you keep talking about?"_

_"Huh?"_

_"You keep saying 'this,' but I'm not sure what you know what it means."_

_She heard Henry again. Heard his muffled voice, asking his mother for something. "Stop treating me like a child."_

_"I'm just worried about you, Amelia. Will you be okay with all of this?"_

_"I'll be fine," she said. "I don't need my brother."_

_"I didn't even say that."_

_"But you're thinking it, aren't you?" she knew._

_"Amelia.._

_"I'm fine with this surgery. Honestly," Amelia told her. "Listen, I wanted you to help her if I end up screwing Herman up" she explained, "but if she is that untrustworthy to you, then forget it."_

_"Of course not!" Addison exclaimed. "She is renowned. People fly across the country just for her."_

Somehow, despite the conversation, despite the murmuring of reassurances, despite everything, she placed her trust in Addison.

And Arizona ended up being her girlfriend, anyway. Despite everything.

* * *

The tenth hour, she falters and makes a call to Addison. She leaves a voicemail. Frantic, unheard even to herself.

She begins to lose herself.

There is a call some hours later, but she can no longer tell the hours. She is informed that Addison is flying in.

The tumor glows brightly.

It becomes too difficult. She sweats. Stephanie attempts to groom her confidence. She has to laugh. She begins to laugh it off.

The way she does. The way she did all the time.

And now she remembers Derek, and his esteem and how it's always chased her, through life, and through med school, and even now, years later. It took his word to get here. It took his word to conquer him.

He swoops in for her, all the time. He is always the one that ends up saving her.

She can never save herself. She can't save anyone, she realizes.

She pulls aside, now, and asks for Richard.

But he refuses to call Derek.

 _Who are you doing this for_ , he asks her, and she wonders at it. Saving one life equates to saving many.

She did this for herself.

And then it became so much larger.

Life is so vast, she realizes.

And now she does it for everyone. For herself.

For Arizona.

Somehow, she returns revitalized. And she looks up and finds Addison's bright eyes looking at her in awe and admiration.

* * *

On some unknown hour, she is looking for her, in this OR that she knows is vacant of her. She knows what she searches for is futile. Still, she looks for her in everything that she sees. At the blur of scrub nurses that hastily cater to her needs, at the drab blue walls that enclose the space she works in, at the open skull of the woman lying before her, at the catastrophic tumor that glows in its malignancy, daring her to continue, daring to consume, to win. She doesn't bother looking up to the balcony and at the sea of people watching her, with their probing eyes cast down on her. She knows she will not find Arizona there.

In actuality, she doesn't need her to be there. She just needs to feel her.

_They are in bed, sleeping and studying, but mostly wound up warmly against each other, listening to medical podcasts. Amelia's surgery is mentioned._

_"Publicity, much?" Arizona teases._

_"It's huge."_

_"I know."_

_"I'll be really fucked if I fail."_

_She feels a caress against her arm as Arizona runs her fingertips smoothly across her skin. The kiss against her forehead is light._

_"The tumor is relentless," Arizona acknowledges, "but so are you."_

* * *

She doesn't call Derek, and somehow, it works.

It works with her hand, her exposed hand against the tumor, and Owen's barking echoing in the OR.

She's never realized how loud his voice can get.

She finds her way out of the OR, she finds herself solitary despite the voices chasing after her, praising her, asking questions, wondering, wondering.

She finds the hallway and slides against the wall and releases her breath.

And then she cries.

* * *

"You weren't there," she tells her. She feels her more than she sees her, and this has been happening more, all the time, it seems, and she wants to know what it is. Why she can feel her so strongly. How she knows she's there before she's even there, and it makes her wonder. She rests herself hard against her seat.

She found her in the backyard, on the deck that overlooks Seattle at the McDreamy palace. She looks over to her now and it takes a moment for Arizona to draw her eyes to the cigarette in her hand.

"She's not awake," Amelia tells her, feeling her chest fill up. It's heavy with disappointment. Heavy with commitment.

 _"_ I wasn't there," Arizona tells her, walking to her, taking a seat across from her. "Callie tried to get me to come, but I didn't. So she left."

"She's not awake yet."

"But she's alive," Arizona tells her.

"She could be corked."

"She's _alive_."

"What will you do?"

"I don't know," Arizona says, and draws a cigarette from the pack on the table.

"You smoke?"

"Not really," she says.

She lights up despite that, and coughs for a moment before taking a deeper drag, and Amelia watches as her face scrunches up, as she crinkles her nose in the usual way that she does, in a gesture that Amelia finds herself in awe at.

She finds herself staring.

Arizona finds her staring. "What?"

"You know," Amelia starts, "I've been stuck with this thought."

She is sure now.

"What thought?"

"That maybe I didn't want to do this," she explains, and gestures a hand between them, "us."

She hesitates as she watches Arizona's expression fall, but she continues, "or maybe it wasn't that I didn't want to, but that this wouldn't be good for me."

"So it's not…" Arizona starts, her voice beginning to falter, the stress in her tone evident now.

"I always run away from the good things," Amelia interjects. "But now it's the only thing I want to do."

"What?" Arizona asks, though she seems to know.

"Be with you," Amelia tells her. "It's the only thing I want now."

 _Maybe ever_ , she wants to add.

But she knows that it's already said, it's already known, and she knows that by the way Arizona pulls her into her arms, she knows by the way she kisses her tenderly, asking, wanting, and in a way…

Loving.

But not in love.

No, not that, she thinks.

Despite falling into her.

Despite falling for her.

She's definitely not in love.


	14. Chapter 14

"Is she going to kill me?" she asks her. "I feel like she's going to kill me."

She hears a groan in response and looks to the dark hair pillowed on her lap. Amelia had just fallen asleep to her humming, answering her questions with only slight groans and nods. She turns her head now, and looks up at the blonde, and Arizona looks into her sleepy, peaceful eyes. She reaches down to brush the hair from her forehead.

Her voice is groggy and sleepy, as if already tired from the inquiries. She is quick to reassure. "She's not going to kill you."

"I'm dating her sister," Arizona tells her. "She's going to _kill_ me."

Amelia scoffs at her, and sits up, lying down next to her on the bed. "That's technically Meredith's line."

"They're both your sisters," Arizona clarifies, "but Meredith is calmer. And nicer," she explains. She remembers the moments she shared with the broody blonde, and considers the brief instances in which she knew Addison. Professionally, they acknowledged each other. Personally, she only knew Addison from what Callie told her, and what Mark used to tell her. But now?

"I don't really know Addison, just that she was close with Callie and Mark and-"

Amelia interjects, her voice soothing and confident, as though she already knows. "You'll be fine, Addie's fine."

"Can I call her that?"

"What?"

"Addie."

Amelia chuckles and turns on her side to look at Arizona. "No," she considers. "I don't think she's that comfortable with you yet."

"See! She doesn't like me!"

"Okay, chill," Amelia says, sitting up now, and grabbing her shoulders. She is teasing again, and nonchalant. "You need to chill. Deep breaths," she says, slowly, playfully. Arizona feels her tuck strands of hair behind her ear. "We're not getting married here."

Arizona considers this. She remembers the calm she used to have. "I was very chill for my wedding, actually."

Though she only begins to make a point, she watches as Amelia frowns, immediately dropping her hands from her shoulders. "Okay, well, whatever," she shrugs, and it makes Arizona wonder. She runs a hand through her hair and sits back to look at Arizona, who only watches as she collects herself. She grins, finally. "Who could not like you?"

"What was that just now?"

"What?" Amelia asks.

"The wedding."

She watches as Amelia grows flustered, as she considers her thoughts, and watches her gaze wanders before falling back on Arizona. "A little jealous, I guess. I forget, sometimes," she says, "that you were married."

She waits before she replies, and her gaze wanders, as well. Her marriage is an afterthought now, she thinks, much like most things in the past, and what is really _here_ now, is this. The boxes littering her new apartment. Her lazily set up room, the walls white, half-painted, and mostly vacant and waiting to be altered, to be decorated. Waiting to be established. Stagnant only because she'd much rather be kissing Amelia.

Everything is new, and rich, and real.

"I'm not chill now," Arizona explains, "because Addison is important to _you_ , and I want her to like me."

She leans into Amelia and kisses her softly on the lips. Amelia smiles into the kiss and pushes herself closer to the blonde. "Well," she murmurs against her lips, "I already like you, no problems there."

She feels Amelia push her back onto the bed, kissing her hard and roughly, as though she is trying to slip away. She feels the tension in her lips, in her body's movement against her own, and it makes her wonder if she is still bothered, if she is trying to win something that should not even be compared.

Arizona sits up as Amelia kisses her harder, and she gets lost in her mouth, in the feeling of her tongue against her own. The brunette seems distracted, frantic, and it gives Arizona enough energy to flip her around and push her against the bed.

They pull back, needing to breathe, needing to catch up, and Arizona peers down at Amelia, who struggles to catch her breath, who is also looking up at her.

"I…" Amelia murmurs, but seems to hesitate and draws her eyes away from Arizona. Her cheeks turn seemingly a shade darker - turned on, she knows, but embarrassed, almost.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Say it."

"Stop it!" Amelia protests, attempting to push herself up. Her body weight feels useless against the blonde's though, and Arizona easily pushes her back down. She takes Amelia's two wrists with her hands and shoves them on the bed, beside her head. "You know what I'm going to say!" Amelia continues.

"I want you to say it," she says, pinning her against the bed.

"Why are you so strong?"

"Say it!"

"You already know."

"I want to hear it."

"I love fucking you."

"You love fucking me?"

"Yes," Amelia says.

She was sure she was going to admit something else, something deeper than that, something that omits the _fuck_ and leaves the rest, but she knows that maybe she isn't there yet, maybe it will take a long time to get there, and she isn't even sure that _she's_ there yet, though she's sure that she wants her.

She giggles at Amelia's confession and watches as the brunette beneath her grumbles angrily.

She kisses her on the forehead and it's just as sweet.

* * *

Amelia is leaning on her when Addison walks in, and she resists the temptation to shrug her off. Amelia's weight is perfect against her, and delicate, and almost everything she needs in this moment. But Amelia ends up detaching herself, anyway, and jumps up to embrace Addison, who, from the look of her eyes, is displeased.

She embraces her, and Arizona stands up and approaches her and stretches her hand out, as though it is their first meeting. But Amelia counters, and takes her offered hand, linking it with her own, and falling back to her side, to her shoulder, kissing her on the cheek affectionately.

Watching the theatrical gesture, Addison manages a half-smile before she begins. "Do we really need the girlfriend thing happening during introductions?"

Amelia seems exasperated by her comment, and Arizona feels as she pulls her arm close to her, as if in defense. "The girlfriend thing is _all the time,_ Addie."

"Professionally, it isn't," Addison remarks. "You all know this."

The hospital's policy flashes through Arizona's mind, and she almost backs away from embarrassment, but Amelia decides to quickly retort. "Well, we've all met. Formalities are-"

"Not exactly as a trio," Arizona corrects, in an attempt at professionalism.

"We're not a trio," Addison clarifies. The tone of her voice sends a jolt through Arizona. It's stiff and unwelcoming. "Formalities are necessary."

"Please," Amelia scoffs in disbelief. "We all know the dirt on you, Addie." Arizona wants to add that's it true, that she _does_ know, and remembers the drama she heard about before she arrived. But she holds her tongue.

"Anyway," Addison continues, turning her attention to Arizona. Her heels seem to accentuate her height, and the blonde feels the intimidation she often felt from Herman during their first encounters. "I'll be … ushering you around for a few weeks. Your fellowship has certainly ended, but as a favor to Doctor Herman," she regards, "I will be assisting you in the procedures you had the least practice with."

"Great," Arizona says. "I look forward to working with you!"

Amelia lets go of her arm as Addison nods at her in agreement, and as the redhead departs the room, she shuts the door and turns to Arizona.

"Okay," Amelia acquiesces, "It'll go better than _that_. I promise."

"Really?"

"Yes," the brunette convinces her. "My declaration of admiration is only the first step!"

"What other steps are there?" Arizona groans. "Isn't she supposed to be a mentor?"

"Yes, but a sister, too."

"I feel like I'm meeting the in-laws."

* * *

She wonders why Addison has decided to observe her practices. Their specialities were interdisciplinary, certainly, but it is also true that specialties are specialties for their own reasons. There are methodologies that she has adapted and implemented into her own surgical skills that stem from Pediatrics, and Herman, and what she's learned. But she's aware that she can also learn methods from Addison - practical ones, and original ones, and things that might help her foster even further as a surgeon.

Yet it still rouses her, _because_ it is Addison. Because of the place Addison holds. She is so far removed from her life, yet inexplicably close.

She's some other part of Amelia she doesn't know.

The thought makes her pace around the lounge as she waits for Addison's consultation.

Her fellowship _is_ done.

_She cried when Herman woke up alive. She cried because Herman couldn't see, because she'd never really see again, though she began to see something new just then, and Arizona couldn't see it the way she did. She wanted her to be there and she wanted her to live, because she could show her things that she'd never really be able to see._

_"I'm fine, I'm alive," she told her._

_There are things she could still do. Things she could still learn._

_She said something to her. Told her she was blind again. Tried to suggest that she may as well have been misguided from that point on. But Herman berated her in the same fashion._

_"You're always to the left of the point, Robbins."_

_She wondered what it meant then. She still doesn't._

_"I know."_

_"Your girlfriend did fine."_

_Her voice was choked. "I know she did." The words caught in her throat._

_"Stop crying."_

_"I'm not crying," she lied._

_But Nicole could always see through her. Even now. "I'm blind, Robbins," Herman pointed out. "Not deaf."_

_She had to laugh, then. Laugh at the relief. At the anxiety. At what was to come._

_"I picked the right horse."_

_"Please don't call me a horse," Arizona cried._

_She took her hand. It felt soft in her own. "I think you did, too."_

_"What?" Arizona asked._

_"Picked the right horse."_

But Herman is gone now, having joined the Blind Institute to further herself. Arizona tries to keep in touch, via texting, sometimes calling. She feels lighter. She is glad that she is alive. The significance of Nicole Herman will always stick with her. It will always show her that life is worth living, worth furthering, worth taking risks for.

And now Addison has begun, during her brief stay in Seattle, to fill the partial gaps that Herman left in her teachings, despite having not really left anything empty at all.

"You worry me," she hears, "pacing like that."

She sees her girlfriend standing at the door with her arms crossed, and laughs at the sight of it, at the repetitious nature of their affairs. She is beginning to love the cycle of it, beginning to love the way Amelia stands at the door with her arms crossed and that amused look on her face. She will never tire of it.

"You should leave before Addison comes."

"She shouldn't be peeved that I'm always here."

"Amelia," Arizona warns.

"I have a break and I want to see my girlfriend."

"I'm waiting for a consult."

"What about a quick bang?"

"Amelia!"

"Fine," she smirks, and turns to leave just as Addison arrives. The redhead only arches a brow, and moves aside to let her pass.

"See you later, Addie," she tells her.

Addison turns her attention to Arizona, and the blonde can almost see the thought in her eyes, the wonder of what they might have been doing before she arrived, but she seems to push the thought aside as she turns her gaze to the charts in her hand.

"So Collin's chart looks good," she notes. "As does the procedure."

"And you will assist?"

"Yes," Addison affirms, scanning her with her eyes, as though she is hiding something.

"Well, I will-" Arizona starts.

"You seem good, though," Addison tells her.

"What?"

"In your procedures. Herman has told me a lot about what you've done."

"She inspired me."

"You've inspired her, too," the taller woman notes. "You seem to inspire many people."

The claim shakes something in Arizona, but she lets herself smile. She knows it comes out awkward, as though Addison is trying to unnerve her.

"I hope my relationship with Amelia isn't a problem," she decides to say. She watches as Addison's eyes widen, as she lets an awkward laugh out before settling down.

"No," Addison says. "I'm not here for that."

* * *

Sometimes Amelia grabs her hand in the hallway, in the middle of walking, in the middle of her speaking to Addison. She does it as though she is trying to frustrate her, or perhaps make a point to Addison that Arizona has not been confronted with.

Sometimes she watches them speaking down the hallway and she can see the frustration on Amelia's face, and she can almost hear her tone as she berates Addison for something. And so, as if to retaliate, Amelia takes her hand, but she brushes it away to preserve her professionality.

She never did that with Callie, either.

She knows it's against the rules. To an extent, anyway.

But then... she begins to take her hand. Because she wants to feel her.

And Addison doesn't say anything, she doesn't glare, she doesn't stare, she does nothing.

Arizona wonders if it's approval.

* * *

"How are things with Addison?" April asks her, tracing the rim of her coffee cup as Arizona pours a cup for herself.

"What?" Arizona asks. "What have you heard?"

"Everyone says that she's here to assess you."

"Under Herman's recommendation," Arizona adds. "Our specialities are not totally matched. She just wants me to practice a more concise procedure that Addison is more familiar with."

"I meant about Amelia."

Arizona turns around to look at her best friend, her eyes surprised. Everyone seems to know but her. "Amelia?"

"You think that's why she's here for so long?" April considers.

"It's just a few weeks."

April seems to take her mind off it, though, and tells her about Jackson, about her own grief.

And then she takes to the OR with Addison, and stares at the woman's eyes, eyes that always seem to avoid her own, eyes that are in contemplation, assessing, yet not really _looking_. And she knows that Addison is a looker.

The renowned OB doesn't do much to help, but she watches Arizona attentively, intently, as though she is the teacher and Addison the student.

"Funny," Addison starts, looming over the body in front of them.

"Hmm?"

"We're always doing this," she notes. "Always taking care of mothers and their babies," she continues, "but when we're the mothers, we're just as lost."

"What do you mean?"

She meets her eyes now, and they seem friendly enough. More inquiring. More trusting.

"Henry's at the age where he's constantly throwing tantrums," she tells her. "Every night since I've been here, Jake has tried to get him on the phone, but he refuses to say anything!" she exclaims. "He's just so upset."

She thinks about it for a moment. Thinks about the absence, the distance.

"I get that," Arizona says. "Sofia hates when I'm not home. She's still confused by everything. But she's adjusting. She doesn't question it anymore."

"Does it bother you?" Addison asks. "When she does ask?"

"A little bit. I don't want her to realize just yet that relationships sometimes…" she says, and considers Callie for a moment, considers Addison's bond with her, a history that she is entirely removed from, "don't work out."

"How will you explain it?"

Arizona smiles through her mask.

_"No!"_

_"No?"_

_"No!"_

_"What about this one?" Amelia asked the child, presenting to her a small Gorilla that seemed to be surprisingly, the size of her head._

_Sofia considered the animal in the woman's hands, attempting to stretch out of her tiny car seat to survey the fluffy creature._

_"Maybe," the child said._

_"Your mama picked it," Amelia noted._

_Not shifting her eyes from the road, Arizona snorted at her confession. She could see her, barely, but mostly just her hair, that curtain of brown that often covered her face at night. Amelia was stretching from her passenger seat to show Sofia the various toys they had bought that day. A stop at the mall after work._

_It was the first time she had come with her to pick up Sofia from school._

_"Mama did?"_

_"Mama did!" Amelia exclaimed._

_"What about Amy?" Sofia asked._

_"Me?"_

_"Amy got toys?"_

_"Well, a couple for your mommy. But I got a bunch for you."_

_Sofia did not consider this, though._

_"None for you?" she asked._

_"No," Amelia said. "None!"_

_"Sofia buy Amy a toy, too!"_

_"Really!?"_

_"Really!"_

_Arizona laughed at their excitement, at their bonding over toys, at their promise to exchange gifts._

_She'd definitely buy her one, too._

"I don't know," she considers. She watches as Addison waits for an answer, but her eyes fall again, to the patient in front of her. "But Amelia helps."

* * *

Callie and Mark were the only things Arizona thought she had in common with Addison, but she is beginning to realize that it's not true, that maybe it was never true. They're both mothers, they're similar in some ways - resilient and definitive in their professions.

And so she decides to approach her, even if she is laughing with Callie over coffee. She walks over to the nurses' station and greets them happily.

"Hey!" she exclaims.

Callie stops for a moment, but smiles anyway. There is some kind of tension. Sometimes. She wonders what they talk about.

"Hey," Addison greets. Her tone seems to reveal hesitance, perhaps around Callie. And yet Callie seems unnerved.

"I was wondering if you'd like to have lunch together, Doctor Montgomery. I'd like to discuss some of the more intensive procedures with you."

"Of course," Addison agrees.

"You're free to come too, Callie," Arizona offers.

"Oh, no," Callie says. "I've got a surgery. Maybe later?"

"Sure."

Arizona watches as Callie takes her leave, as Addison inquires about drinks later before turning to her.

"That seemed easy for you," Addison notes. Another assessment of character, Arizona thinks.

"That's questionable," Arizona says. "Hard to say it's easy."

"I think I could understand."

Their lunch is less strenuous, and they mostly discuss procedures. Arizona feels tension in her head, her voice, as if preparing herself for what comes next. The discussion is over faster than she anticipates, and she no longer has anything to say.

She was always good at small talk. But this is Amelia's sister, isn't it?

"So, how long have you known Doctor Herman?" Arizona inquires.

"Oh, I've known her for quite some time. She mentored me in some ways, too. I wasn't surprised when she told me that she picked you as her fellow."

"Really?"

Addison smiles. "You seem surprised."

She feels a squeeze on her shoulder as a tray is placed on top of their table, and Amelia gleefully takes a seat next to Arizona, almost announcing herself as she sits with a thud. She seems to ignore Addison for a moment, and turns her attention to Arizona.

"Done with moving yet?"

"Half done."

"Want me to come over later?"

"That would help," she says. _Or not_ , she thinks, remembering how they get when they're together.

Addison bites on a potato chip slowly and watches the two, her eyes narrowing, as if attempting to gauge them. Arizona looks back at her.

"So," Arizona begins, "How's the McDreamy palace treating you?"

Addison looks surprised for a moment, and she watches as her lips widen to a smile before the redhead laughs loudly. "Oh, no, no," she laughs. "I'm staying at a hotel."

"But isn't Amelia-"

"You really think she'd stay at her ex-husband's house just cause I'm there?"

"Oh," Arizona murmurs, "that's true."

"Hotel prices are rising, though," the redhead tells her. "The practice has been a little slow lately, and I've been taking a lot of time off. Maybe it was better to ask. But that would have been awkward."

She says it before she thinks it. It seems a vaguely good idea.

"Well, if you want, you can stay at my place," Arizona offers.

"What?" she hears - two voices in unison.

"What?" she echoes, as though she hadn't heard.

"No, no," Amelia protests. "A hotel is fine for Addie."

"Actually," Addison considers. "That's not a bad idea. I'll stay. It's only for what, two weeks?"

"Seriously?" Amelia asks. She looks over to Arizona, and the blonde meets her eyes. She seems surprised, and Arizona feels as she taps her foot against her own.

"Why not?" Arizona asks.

"Perfect," Addison remarks. "Amy, you can help me move my stuff tonight, then."

* * *

"What the _hell_ is in this suitcase?" she hears at the door.

Her girlfriend is loud and annoying and often has tantrums, she realizes, when she's frustrated and doesn't get her way.

Then again, Amelia calls her pouty.

The door opens without much of her help, and anyway, she is too busy preparing dinner to notice. She turns off the stove as the two enter, and she hears a thud on the floor, as a suitcase is dropped. Amelia hurries over to Arizona, peering over the stove before greeting her.

"You made curry?"

"I thought it would be good."

"We're going to be up all night."

"It's not too spicy."

She turns to the door as Addison closes it, and the redhead stands there for a moment, slightly unnerved but bold, nonetheless.

"Hi Doctor Montgomery."

"Addison is fine, you know."

"Right," Arizona laughs, and leads her to the guest room.

Addison skips dinner, though, and they don't hear from her for the rest of the night. The redhead seems withdrawn to her room, and Arizona spends the rest of the night in her own with Amelia.

* * *

The days seem stale, uneventful, though often sprung with surgeries. Addison observes, inquires, sometimes leaving to take on her own. Access is granted by Hunt, who still follows Webber mostly, and Addison is rarely seen.

Dinner is refused, so Arizona stops cooking. They opt for take-out nowadays - Amelia's suggestion. Sometimes she catches her in the morning, offering cereal instead. Addison goes for breakfast with Callie.

Arizona stops, finally. She realizes that she cannot make the guest feel like less of an intruder, so she sees her at work, sometimes with Amelia at night. They get along well enough, exchanging small talk, sometimes jokes. Jokes about the profession.

On the last night, they arrive at the apartment together, having completed an extensive and collaborative surgery, alternating when necessary. She's sure Addison is tired of her face now, so she plops down onto her couch and leans back.

Fatigue overwhelms her surprise as Addison plops down next to her, leaning her head against the arm of the couch.

"That was _long_ ," the redhead groans.

"That was," Arizona agrees. "I'm beat."

Silence follows. Arizona's eyelids grow heavy. There is no movement on either side.

"So," Addison considers, after a moment, "should we just… sit here, then?"

Arizona's eyes droop again, but she blinks to wake herself up. She wonders if Amelia will come. "I can cook."

"I'm fine with take-out," the redhead insists, "you don't need to cater for me. This is already enough."

She only nods, feeling her phone vibrate in her pocket. She reads the apology on her screen.

"Oh," Arizona says, "Amy's not coming tonight."

"Why?"

"Surgery."

"Oh."

Addison's tone shakes something in her. It's the disinterest, the questionable acknowledgement that makes her say it.

"I adore her, you know," Arizona tells her. "She's my girlfriend."

Addison waits, but she says nothing else, and she can feel as the taller woman sits up.

"Why are you so intent on getting my approval?"

"I was, at first. Amelia wasn't. But then she was. It worried me. I wondered why. And then I realized that you're important to her," Arizona explains. "That means something to me."

Addison considers her words. There is silence between their exchange.

"She's been through things," Addison starts, "I don't know if she's told you, but she's been through some horrible things and," she says, her words selective as she utters them, "I just want her to be okay."

She sits up now, and looks at her. Addison is looking right back at her, her narrowed eyes laced with concern.

"I want her to be okay, Arizona," Addison continues. "I watched her grow up. She's my sister."

"I know," she says, softly. Truly. "I won't hurt her like that."

"You won't?"

"I want to protect her."

Addison smiles. She alleviates something now.

"And you will."

"Yeah?" Arizona asks.

"I'm sure of it," Addison tells her. "Now I'm craving Chinese."

* * *

She is not one to pounce, not usually, or perhaps not lately, because something like that has surely diminished through time. But when she sees Amelia, Amelia in only her panties, bending over to search through one of her boxes to find a pot, or perhaps a pan, or whatever it was she meant to search for, she is unaware of her movements before they happen.

Amelia seems startled when Arizona brushes her hand against her ass, her finger tracing the elastic of her underwear. She turns around, or at least tries to, but Arizona pushes her down against the box, causing her to tumble on the floor. Her weight pushes the box away, and it tips over, causing the numerous pots and pans to tumble out, and her head slowly touches the carpet, shielded briefly by Arizona's hand.

"What are-" Amelia tries to say, but Arizona silences her, kissing her roughly, hotly against the mouth. Her tongue slips into Amelia's mouth before the other has time to breathe, and she can feel the woman trembling under her touch already.

This time, it's better. Addison's presence was nice, but now that she's left, she can have Amelia anywhere again. Even though Arizona was the one who protested having sex while Addison was there, she becomes someone else when alone. Something gets unraveled. It comes from Amelia.

It comes from Amelia's trembling reaction as she runs her fingernails down her ribcage.

"I just showered," Amelia breathes out.

"You can shower again."

Her fingers run against her skin and trace the elastic of her underwear. Arizona opts to playing with the fabric, teasing her with her lips instead. She kisses her softly, pulling away when she draws closer.

"Stop," Amelia protests.

"Should I?"

"I meant fuck me already."

"Should I?" she asks again, slyly.

"Arizona," Amelia murmurs. "Please kiss me."

She does, she kisses her. The feeling is warm, her lips are warm and soft and all she knows in this moment, though her fingers trace her skin, though her hand slips into her underwear, tracing the heat of her efforts, of her wants.

Amelia doesn't have to ask, because she doesn't want to wait, so she slips a finger into her, and feels her warmth against her, the way she grips her tightly, taking her in slowly and with desire. It makes Amelia gasp out.

"Fuck," she moans.

As though in response, Arizona slides another finger into her, slipping deeper and harder, pulling Amelia's leg up for more leverage.

She slides out slowly, thrusting hard when Amelia complains, but mostly slowly to feel her, to feel her clenching around her fingers, asking for more, not wanting her to leave yet. She fills her deeply, she thinks, just as she does to her, and it makes her thrust harder, it makes her desire something more.

She finds herself swaying with Amelia, pushing her hard against the carpet as she moves her hips with each thrust, making the brunette moan loudly. She's glad she's gotten an apartment. She feels Amelia's walls begin to tighten, and as she comes, she feels herself deep inside of her.

When they catch their breath, Arizona doesn't remove her fingers from her. Instead, she falls beside her, pressing her forehead against her cheek. She feels the sweat on Amelia's face and smiles.

"You jumped me," Amelia says, in between breaths.

"You liked it."

"I did."

Arizona slips out of her as they catch their breath and she hears Amelia's stomach rumble.

She laughs. "I'll go pick up some food for us."

She is stopped as she begins to move, and Amelia's hand pulls her back next to her. "No."

"No?"

"No."

"Why?"

"You might slip away from me," she tells her, and Arizona feels the grip on her hand grow tighter as Amelia continues. "I don't want you away from me."

"We should probably get up from the floor, though."

Amelia smiles, looking sleepy, her eyes half-closed, and bright and affectionate.

"No one is going to come," Amelia tells her. "It's just you and me."

She doesn't know when she falls asleep, surrounded by pots and pans and tumbled boxes and a naked Amelia, but she does.

She enjoys waking up next to her.

It's exhilarating.

Sublime.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the wonderful comments.

She is beginning to love Arizona in the sunlight.

She is beginning to love her in the daytime, in the shower, and at night on her brother's balcony, and in her bed in the dark.

She is beginning to love the way she speaks to her, and the different tones of her voice. She loves the way she seeks her body at night, touching her lightly, asking for something with the soft trace of her fingertips.

She is beginning to love her.

Even now.

Especially now.

"Derek is…"

"Fishing."

"But," Arizona softly complains, and the slight pout of her bruised lips makes Amelia grip her wrists harder. "I'm gonna get dirty."

"Grass stains." She kisses her and Arizona grunts against her lips. "Grass stains," she murmurs again.

"He's gonna catch us."

"Not if we're quiet."

"Amelia…" she murmurs, and it's more like a whisper than a complaint, Amelia thinks.

She sits back on her heels to take in the view of Arizona in the sunlight.

Her hair is a deep golden color, illuminated by the sunlight. Her eyes emit their own dark sapphire allure. Arizona watches her intently, waiting impatiently, pouting somewhat, but the bruise of her lips mask the brief protest. Amelia's eyes fall to her exposed stomach, to the shirt that has already been pulled up, revealing her black sports bra.

Amelia traces her fingers gently around her navel, causing Arizona to pant.

"Stop," she murmurs.

"You want me to?"

"No."

Amelia smiles, tempted to kiss her. But instead, she pulls down her pants - _hiking pants_ , Arizona calls them - and quickly unfastens her prosthetic. She's mastered it already, having no trouble taking it off.

Arizona bends her leg, surprised when Amelia quickly pulls off her underwear.

"I'm gonna get dirty."

She pulls her leg over her shoulder.

"It's okay," Amelia reassures her. "We're dirty people."

Arizona exhales hard when she fastens her mouth on her, and she is surprised by how enthused she is by her taste. It's something she's never done before, but she's now so used to it, now so used to Arizona's taste, so used to her softness and heat against her tongue. She is wet and trembling, and tight when she enters with her tongue, and the blonde gasps harder, exhaling wildly as she tries to keep her voice down.

It's easy to make her come, it's easy to feel her tighten against her tongue, despite her incessant thrusting, despite her want to make her come again.

It's just so easy to want her.

* * *

Derek has only recently returned to Seattle, declaring that he has no intention to return to D.C, though he seemed to have forgotten many things over there, including his phone. His silence seemed staggering upon his return, though, and Amelia decided to quickly announce to him that she was dating Arizona.

He was surprised. Yet, not doubtful. He is never doubtful of the people she dates, she realizes, or perhaps he's never really gotten to know them. He was not pleased by her many trysts with men in the past, including the man that his ex-wife cheated with. Still, that was outside of his concern. As is this.

And yet, she felt the need to tell him. And he seemed to be fine. He seemed to be happy, almost.

And upon his return, he only took a few hours to clean and shave before asking Amelia to take the weekend off, along with Arizona. He insisted on hiking.

Agreeing hesitantly, Amelia realized something was awry when she entered the house and was met with Meredith's silence. She knew she walked into a feud. Arizona seemed just as reluctant, shying herself away from the door, away from the drama.

So hiking they went. Much to Arizona's displeasure.

 _I hate hiking, she told her. And camping. This won't be good for my leg, she insisted._ Amelia just kissed her and offered to carry her on her back, if it came down to it.

"How did you two get so dirty?" she hears, as she makes her approach to the small riverbed Derek has settled himself in.

She looks over to the blonde, who only looks surprised, as though she has been caught guilty. She is too startled to say anything, so Amelia just laughs and turns her attention back to her brother.

"Arizona decided that she wanted to roll around in the mud."

She hears Arizona clear her throat. "No! We just wanted to spend some time on the grass."

Derek briefly surveys the condition of their clothes, and the look he gives her makes Amelia reach up to smooth her hair. He smiles knowingly. "Meredith and I spent a lot of time on the grass too," he grinned. "Particularly the ones that block the view."

"Yeah, well, we saw some great views," Arizona jokes, walking to his side. "Any catches?" she asks him.

"No," he says. "This line is faulty."

She watches as Arizona takes the rod from him, straightening out the line in a strange fashion, a method she's never seen before.

"Let me show you a trick," she tells Derek. She looks over to Amelia and gestures for her.

Her eagerness makes Amelia smile.

It's the smile she gets that makes the thumping start. Arizona is already something of permanence.

She pushes the feeling away. "I didn't know you fish," Amelia says.

"Oh, not really," she says, fumbling with the line. "My dad used to drag me and my brother out every summer to go on fishing trips," she explains. "It was really boring and I hated it, but he made me pay attention. I learned a lot of tricks."

"Where did you fish?" Derek asks.

"Massabesic in New Hampshire."

"Really," he smiles. "I went there all the time when I lived on the East Coast."

"Yeah," she says, "there are a bunch of awesome and smaller surrounding lakes around there if you know where to look."

"Wow," Derek remarks. "I never thought of that."

Still fumbling with the line, she says, "Tim used to do this really well."

"Your brother?" he asks.

"Yeah."

The brother, Amelia thinks.

Here is her brother and her girlfriend, bonding over something she realizes she knows nothing about. And yet, here they are. Derek watches Arizona's hands carefully, surveying her methods as though he is watching a surgery.

She wonders what Arizona's brother was like, what sort of person he was, what sort of things he did. He must have taught her many things, she thinks, and she almost wishes she could bond in the same way.

Arizona doesn't talk about him much. All she knows is that he was in the Marines and died on duty.

"Come try, Amy," Derek tells her.

"Fishing seems really boring."

"It is," Arizona agrees, offering the rod to her.

"Then why are you telling me to do it?"

"Amy, we used to fish together all the time," Derek says.

"You're already here!" Arizona tells her. "Come on."

Fishing turns out to be more delightful than she anticipated. She feels closer to her brother - something she never thought she'd feel in a long time. Something about him has changed, she thinks. And it's the same for her, too. She wants to tell him.

What enchants her, though, is Arizona fishing. Arizona casting a line. Arizona, here with her.

She is beginning to love fishing, too.

* * *

They sit at the blazing campfire beside their tents, shivering in the cool air of the woods. They've just finished dinner, a simple dinner, really. A dinner made from cans and roasting and the expertise of her brother.

As the sun goes down, Arizona seems to shiver more, and moves closer to Amelia, so close that she begins to bury herself in her arms. Amelia can feel the warmth of her body through her clothes, and wonders why she shivers so strongly.

Derek seems to notice as Amelia wraps her arms tighter around her, and Arizona leans her head on her shoulder. He smiles, yet somehow, not delightfully. He smiles with understanding, and sadness, almost.

"You okay?" Derek asks the blonde.

She only nods. Amelia rests her hand against her head and runs her fingers through her hair.

"Are you remembering?" Derek asks her, and Amelia wonders what he means.

"This creeps me out a bit," Arizona admits, as though reminded. "I don't know how you can do this."

"After the plane crash," he starts, and then she understands, "I had to. I had to overcome it. So I came out here. By myself."

"You're brave," Arizona smiles. "It must run in the family."

Amelia laughs and Derek's smile grows wider.

"Will you be okay, Robbins?" he asks her.

"I'll be fine," she reassures, and takes Amelia hand in her own.

And she is fine, Amelia realizes, when the sun disappears and the fire begins to blaze. She is fine as she jokes with Derek and Amelia, and laughs at their family antics, at their inside jokes and stories of their siblings.

Eventually, he withdraws to his own tent, and leaves the two to talk in the dark of the night.

They sit together in each other's arms, and speak in low voices.

"So I guess Derek comes here all the time with Meredith, huh?" Arizona asks.

"I doubt they come that often," Amelia says. "My brother is a solitary man."

"Well, they do roll on the grass together," Arizona laughs.

"Oh gross," Amelia says, the thought striking her. Arizona looks at her curiously. "Do you think we banged where they banged?"

"I really hope not."

She only laughs, and they both stare at the campfire together. When Arizona begins to fall asleep against her shoulder, she gently nudges her awake.

"Let's put the fire out," Amelia says.

Arizona withdraws to their tent while she puts the fire out, and she uses a flashlight to navigate herself. When she enters the tent, Arizona is already bundled in her sleeping bag, holed up on the left side of the small space.

"We could bundle up our sleeping bags to make it bigger, you know."

"It's so cramped," Arizona complains. "You might whack me in the face."

"When have I ever done that?"

"Once. You were sleeping."

"Come on," Amelia grins, getting on her knees and slipping into her sleeping bag. She draws nearer to Arizona and presses her nose against her cheek. "I'll keep you warm," she whispers.

"Mmm," Arizona murmurs. "I'm warm enough."

"Feeling better?"

"Your brother made a good point," she says. "Getting over it. The crash. Overcoming, you know? Herman taught me that, too."

"How does it make you feel?"

"Better," Arizona says. "It's funny, I have to consider so many of your siblings."

"What?"

"What…" she starts, drawing her hand against Amelia to count against her skin. "Meredith, and Addison, and Derek, and your other sisters, and…"

"My other sisters?"

"Well, yeah," Arizona considers. "I'm going to meet them some time."

"Are you proposing to me?" Amelia asks her.

The question makes Arizona giggle against her, and she draws her lips to her neck. She doesn't answer, she just grazes her lips against Amelia's neck, kissing her when she feels the urge.

She could be fine just falling asleep like this, but now Arizona's kisses grow hotter and they wander. Her kisses finally reach Amelia's lips, and she is surprised when Arizona slips her tongue into her mouth.

She could be fine with kissing too, kissing hotly, entangling her tongue with Arizona's, but then her hands wander also, slipping under her shirt, her fingers lightly tracing her nipple.

"Wait, what," Amelia says, feeling Arizona's hand slip into her underwear. "Hey, Derek is just-"

"What was it you said," the blonde interrupts, "Not if we're quiet?"

"That was different!" Amelia protests.

"You're really wet," Arizona notes.

"Well," Amelia murmurs, her body already hot. "You're really close."

She feels Arizona's breasts press hard against her own as she moves closer, and she wonders if she can feel her heart racing, too. She's engulfed. This kind of heat is destructive.

"Really hot too," Arizona whispers hotly against her lips. She pushes Amelia's legs apart to slip her finger inside of her. Amelia feels as she enters her slowly, effortlessly. "You're gripping really hard," Arizona smiles.

"The angle."

"Should I get on top of you?" Arizona asks.

"No, I," Amelia says, and gasps when Arizona slips a second finger into her. She wants to admit that this awkward angle feels better, that her leg on top of Arizona's body is enough, that her fingers require more friction, more effort, to thrust inside of her.

She grips her tightly, she knows, but it feels so much better.

Arizona thrusts slowly, breathing heavily against Amelia's lips as her palm begins to rub against her clit, and Amelia has to gasp harder now.

"You're super wet."

She feels too hot now, too enclosed, maybe. But she feels close to Arizona. They are in a tiny tent inches away from Derek, who she presumes, is sleeping soundly. They are in a tiny tent, bundled in sleeping bags and covered with warm clothes. They are in a tiny tent, and Arizona is fucking her slowly, thrusting hard and rubbing against her.

"I'm going to come," Amelia gasps. "Go faster."

"Mmm," Arizona refuses, "Let me enjoy the view."

She comes despite Arizona's refusal, despite her slow thrusting. She comes only because Arizona kisses her, because she captures her tongue with her teeth, because she is surrounded by her warmth and body heat and her fingers inside of her.

"Fuck…" Amelia exhales against her lips.

"I think I'm starting to like hiking."

* * *

Amelia awakens to Arizona's silent nudging, and she realizes that they are already home. It was a quick drive back to the house, but her nap felt very long.

Derek takes most of the luggage inside, and helps Arizona pack her stuff into her own car. She waves to Derek before turning to Amelia.

"You're not coming inside?"

"I'm gonna go. I'm very tired," Arizona tells her. "Besides, you should spend some time with Derek."

"He says he's back for good," Amelia counters. "We've got plenty of time. I know him well enough."

"He's been gone a while," the blonde smiles. "Go bond."

"There's something going on between him and Mer right now."

"I can see that," she notes. "I'll see you in the morning?" And she says it as though it's common, as though they've been doing it forever, as though it might be forever.

The thought of it, the tone of it, makes Amelia's heart race.

"Of course," she smiles, kissing Arizona goodbye.

* * *

It only takes a day for the hospital to realize that something has happened to cause a strain on Meredith and Derek's relationship.

She hears the gossip, and Maggie even begins to inquire. But no matter how much they ask, Amelia doesn't know. She is tempted to ask Alex, but she knows that she doesn't have that sort of relationship with him.

Arizona begins to prepare for a huge surgery - monumental, she says, and so she doesn't see her often, either. It prompts her to go home.

Knowing Meredith would come soon, she cooks. She cooks for Bailey and Zola and tucks them in and awaits her sister's arrival. Her brother has been positioned to a secondary role, and so she assigns him routine procedures. She is testing his ego. She always tests his ego.

And yet, to her surprise, he doesn't mind. He enjoys it, he says.

Something has changed in him.

She hears a jingle at the door as she settles the plates on the table, and Meredith enters. She stands at the door and watches her sister-in-law. She seems unmoved.

"You cooked," Meredith says.

"Yep," Amelia agrees. "Help yourself."

She thinks that maybe she'd refuse, that she'd just resign herself to her room, but she nods and heads for the stove, filling her plate to its capacity.

"I'm starving," Meredith remarks.

They eat mostly in silence, speaking now and then about a procedure.

"I thought you had that surgery scheduled," Meredith says.

"I've handed it over to my dear brother."

"Oh," Meredith says with a half-smile, "the power of authority."

It takes a moment for Amelia to ask, only because she is sure that it isn't her business. But then Arizona flashes through her head and she feels the absence of the day on her shoulders. She wanted to see her. She always wants to see her.

"What's the matter, Mer?" Amelia asks. "Did my brother do something stupid again?"

"I don't know," Meredith says. "I'll have to ask him."

She only waits, watching Meredith, sometimes scooping a spoonful of food into her mouth. She waits.

"Sometimes I'm afraid that history really does repeat itself," Meredith admits.

She wants to ask what she means, but she already knows. She takes the hint. Somehow.

"You mean Addison."

Meredith laughs. "Not exactly."

Marriage, she thinks. Addison had been her sister-in-law for over a decade.

"How did you feel about Derek being married for so long?"

Another pause. Meredith looks up. She considers the question, peering back into her plate. "It bothered me. Sometimes. I was always comparing. I did ask him to pick me, you know."

"You did?"

"In a grand gesture."

Amelia laughs. "And when you got together. Did it bother you at all?"

"What?"

"That he was married before. For so long."

"A little," Meredith admits. "When I found out. I thought I was just that girl he screwed to get over being screwed. A rebound for Addison," she explains. "But then I saw that he was looking at me _because_ of me. She adds, "No matter how screwed up I was. It was me."

Meredith seems to realize something in her words, and she becomes absorbed in her thoughts. She looks up after a moment, somehow startled that Amelia is there, and gives her a half-smile.

"He didn't look at me hoping to find Addison," she tells her. "Arizona doesn't look at you hoping to find Callie, does she?"

"What?" Amelia asks, surprised.

"Don't worry about it so much."

"That's not what this is about."

"Partially, it is, isn't it?"

Amelia sighs, but smiles despite that. It is true, she thinks.

Her inquiries are always a reflection of herself.

* * *

She finds Derek on the deck later, sipping on a beer and staring down at the city below them.

"Derek," she says, and he turns to her and smiles. He seemed to have had a conversation with Meredith earlier, and now things seem to be at ease. She wonders what happened.

"Everything okay now?"

"Perfect," he smiles.

"Are you really not going back?"

"No," he tells her.

"Why?"

She knows what he means, the why behind it. He has already told her. He wants to watch his children grow up. He wants to be there.

"Amy, I don't want to miss a single moment ever again," he tells her. "You shouldn't either."

"I'm trying not to," Amelia says.

"Arizona in surgery?" he asks.

His inquiry makes her laugh. "Why do you ask?"

"Meredith told me what you talked about earlier."

"Assumptions," Amelia claims.

"You know, I was in love with Meredith before I even realized it. I went to her to get over Addison, but by then, I was in love," he explains. "She wasn't Addison, but that didn't matter. People are entirely separate."

She considers his words, despite not having said anything. He is right, she thinks. People are separate. Love is different. All the time.

"So what about Arizona-" Derek starts to say.

But she doesn't need to think about it. She just needs to say it.

"I'm in love with her, I think."

"You think?"

"Probably."

"You don't know?" Derek smiles.

"I do."

"You are!"

Amelia smiles, and feels the heaviness in her throat. "I'm afraid."

"Good," he says. "Wouldn't be love without the fear."

* * *

She wants to be sure of it. She wants the unnerving feeling to go away. The feeling is most often present when Arizona is _not_ there, when she is absent. So she goes to find her. She finds her so that she can feel alleviated. She doesn't want the feeling to linger. It's heavy.

Exhilarating in a kind of crazy way.

She asks Alex, but then he tells her that Arizona's surgery failed, that she has just reported to the family that the mother and child is dead. She texts her, hoping to find her, hoping to know where she is, but she does not respond. She looks through the Peds ward, she looks for her in the Attendings' lounge. She cannot find her.

But then she has a feeling. A clue.

She finds her in the patient's room, vacant now, save the blonde who sits near the window, peering at the darkness of the city outside. Arizona looks over to her and smiles. She looks back out of the window.

Amelia goes to her. She stands beside her.

"I'm sorry," she says.

"It was risky," Arizona says.

"You did your best."

"Herman said the same thing. I called her earlier."

"I'm sorry."

"Callie wanted me to be free," she says suddenly.

"What?"

"She said she wanted me to feel free, too. Free, the way she did. I didn't know what she meant," Arizona explains, still looking outside of the window. "I didn't know what she meant for a long time."

Amelia wants to ask something, but she has nothing to ask. She just wants to know.

"And then you came. Swooped in, kind of. Miraculously," Arizona laughs, looking back at her. "You did."

"I did?"

"You did," Arizona says. "And then Herman drilled me. All the time. Constantly. For months. I thought I would go crazy, but I began to see things and understand things with her and with you," she continues. "Especially you."

Amelia wants to sit. The thumping in her chest makes her feel hazy. It's reached her head too, but her hearing is so clear.

"I've been really thinking. About what it means to be free. I've been thinking about how I could be free, I've been thinking all this time about what it means. And now… now, I think, being free is really as simple as… letting go."

She looks over to Amelia.

"You," she says, "you make me feel free. Lighter, you know? That's what you do. Being with you makes me feel that way."

Letting go, she thinks.

To be free, we must let go.

She says nothing to her. She only lets out a deep breath. Has she been holding her breath?

She has. She wonders how long she's been holding her breath until now.

Arizona says nothing, though, she simply peers out of the window.

And this is how Amelia really knows.

Standing here, watching her, she knows.

It's going to destroy her.

This is how Amelia knows that she's in love.

And like a secret, she keeps it to herself.


	16. Chapter 16

A line of texts flash one after another onto her brightly lit screen.

The words illuminate in the darkness of the room, and she sighs against them, as though rendered useless in this moment.

_I heard what happened. Are you okay?_

_Arizona?_

_Where are you?_

_Please answer me._

_Mer is looking for you._

_I need to see you._

_Arizona please._

She doesn't respond. The scenes are playing in her head. Fire. Trees. Smoke. Screaming, always 're playing in her head and it seems to blur her screen, her vision, so she doesn't respond. She lets her phone drop back onto the floor, landing gently next to her crumpled up lab coat.

She breathes.

Heavily.

That's all she can do.

Meredith does find her after a while. She opens the door to the storage closet as if that had always been their meeting place, as though they've since established a strong bond - but it's more of an affinity that guides her there, Arizona knows, and so she doesn't regard Meredith finding her with confusion.

Instead, she tells her that a plane crashed.

Meredith knows. She knows, she says, and she sits down next to her and breathes with her. They breathe together, in silence and nervousness, and Arizona takes her hand.

In the dark room, all they can hear are themselves. They are not alone.

And _We're okay_ becomes their mantra.

They talk about what they see, and how it's parallel to their awful memories. A man's leg. A missing boyfriend. A plane crashing.

It's all too familiar.

But she knows, she knows they're okay.

They will always be okay.

She trembles nervously while gripping the hand of the estranged woman next to her, whom she's known for years.

It takes her a moment to laugh at where they've come.

* * *

Amelia finds her and she resists.

She stands at the nurse's station, gripping her tablet tightly. She can't act this way towards her, not now. This is her burden alone, she thinks.

She can't ruin it again. She can't blame anyone again.

Resistance is not something that she actively chooses, but something that happens anyway. It forces itself into her. She's become resistant to talk.

Amelia quietly approaches her, and gently pulls on the sleeve of her lab coat. When Arizona turns to her, she sees the tiredness in her eyes, the darkness and the glow that seems to envelop them.

"Meredith told me to let you be," she says, "but I couldn't do that."

She imagines Amelia snapping at her stoic sister-in-law.

Arizona laughs nervously. "I'm fine."

"Are you?" Amelia asks, tugging on her sleeve again. "You didn't respond to me." She sounds concerned.

She sighs. She feels so tired. Too heavy. "Alex is on my ass already, Amelia."

Her rebuff makes Amelia flinch. She lets go of her lab coat.

"Sorry," Arizona quickly says. "Maybe I do…" she continues, dropping her gaze, "need to be alone."

"I could understand," Amelia tries to reassure her.

But she knows she never could. The words cut deeply, and she remembers Callie.

"You couldn't," she coldly dismisses her, scampering off before Amelia can say anything else.

* * *

Alex follows her around throughout the day, and she is tempted to snap at him, to lecture him for his intrusiveness, as though he simply isn't doing this just to protect her.

She knows he only tries to protect her.

Isn't that what everyone tries to do?

What Callie tried to do?

What Amelia does now?

But she ends up snapping at him anyway, and he understands and draws away from her. He hurries away, because she makes him.

She realizes this is why people leave her. She makes them leave her. She insists that she can do everything on her own. She is resistant to let them in.

She always has been, hasn't she?

* * *

She texts Amelia and requests she come to the Attending's lounge. She waits on the couch, fumbling with the phone in her hands, staring at the emptiness of the text box to Amelia.

Amelia promptly comes to her and Arizona ushers her to the couch with her hand, taking her own hand lightly as she pulls her down. She allows Amelia to get comfortable before she leans over and settles her head onto her lap.

Amelia says nothing to her, though, and she begins to feel as she lightly threads her fingers through her blonde hair.

This is what she enjoys the most.

"Do you want to move in with me?" Arizona asks quietly.

Amelia laughs. "No."

"Why not?"

Amelia waits a moment, and she hears the consideration of her tone. The hurt and wariness of it. "I couldn't stand if you ignored me like this."

"I'm sorry."

"I told you I can understand," Amelia starts, but she stops herself. Arizona listens as her voice gets lighter, softer. She continues, "not that. Not the plane crash. I never could. But… but, the being alone."

"Yeah," Arizona agrees.

"I know you need it."

"Yeah," she agrees again. Arizona takes her free hand and entangles her fingers with Amelia's. "But not now."

"I know."

"So you won't move in?"

"Not yet," Amelia tells her, and Arizona feels as she bends over and lightly kisses her hair.

She's always loved the smell of Amelia Shepherd.

* * *

She is more settled now. She is alive now.

She is breathing just fine.

But still, she finds herself nestled into Amelia's lap again, balled up in a cocoon. She is wrapped against her, and Amelia continues to stroke her hair lovingly.

The day is over. Alex told her that he was the one. It wasn't Callie that did it, but him.

The memory of it all makes her tremble.

_"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked her._

_It took a moment, and Callie explained how she knew she would hate her despite it all._

_She waited before telling her. Her voice broke in its tenderness._

_"I wanted you to have somebody."_

_She remembered Amelia just then._

"You're shivering," Amelia tells her, yet she finds it strange when she does. She can't recall shivering, but she supposes that's the reason her head seems to be vibrating. "Are you cold?" Amelia continues to ask, pulling the blankets closer against her.

"No," she says. "I'm not."

"Okay."

"The forest was cold," Arizona recalls, remembering the heaviness of Mark's head against her lap, the absence of feeling in her legs, the loss of blood that led to her perpetual coldness. "Cristina slapped me twice," she laughs weakly, "only to wake me. Only because she thought I might have been dead."

Amelia says nothing, though now she can feel the softness of her fingertips against her scalp.

"I might have been dead."

"But you aren't now."

"Mark died on my lap once," Arizona says, "but Cristina revived him again." She continues, "No one's ever died on top of me before."

"That doesn't happen, usually."

She waits. She wants to laugh. She remembers Callie.

"I've never told anyone this before."

Amelia waits. The movement of her hand stops for a moment, but then she slides her hand against her pulse, as if to feel the beating of her heart. "It's not something that's easy to say," she says after a while.

"Alex told me that he cut off my leg," she says. "Not Callie."

"He did?" Amelia regards.

"Callie didn't do it," she says. Her head feels heavy. The trembling stops. She places her hand on Amelia's knee. "I blamed her for it. For so long. And she never told me."

Amelia waits, as though she knew they had spoken about this. She doesn't press on, but Arizona continues. "She said she wanted me to have someone."

"That's good of her."

"She is good," Arizona considers.

She turns on Amelia's lap and looks up at her, as the brunette peers down at her. She reaches up her hand and threads her fingers in Amelia's hair.

"I have people now."

Amelia smiles, "I know."

"I'm sorry."

"I'll be here for you when you need me."

"Me too," Arizona tells her. "Me too."

"Yeah?"

"Yes," she assures her. "I'm here for you, too. Always."


	17. Chapter 17

**This is a double update. Read the previous chapter before this one.**

* * *

He is a friend loosely connected from California, from her teenage years in New York, somehow still known, a rugged man still encapsulated by the disjointed, wide-spanning world. His name is James, but he isn't her James, he's not that James, not the James she left behind, the James she abandoned in her fright.

She stops for a moment, and wonders if she's doing that to Arizona. She probably is.

The flask is shiny in her grasp, and it looks rather beautiful in this moment, in this darkened room, under the vivid colored lights shining over her. Her jaw trembles and she feels jittery and so, so disoriented.

The lights are beautiful. She feels euphoric when she looks at them, when she does not submit to her thoughts. She thinks about all the love in the world. The lights remind her of that.

She can't see it very well, though, because her vision is fucked and she is sure that maybe she is too old to have taken bumps of a drug so young, so pure, so filthy in her stomach that it caused her to puke two times before the powder rolled in cigarette paper finally dissolved inside of her.

"Kinda surprised," he says to her, looking at her, and she can see him and hear him, but she knows he's not really there, nor is she. But he continues, "Thought you'd quit."

"You always come back," she tells him. Meaning to correct herself, she rephrases, "I always come back."

"Right on," he applauds, grinning, and she can see the gleam of his incisors and thinks about the times that Arizona has bitten her on the neck, and on the thigh, and everywhere. She feels the love.

"You know, Doctor MD," he snorts, observing the flask in her hand, slipping it out from her grasp, "mixing alchy with MD ain't a good choice. Kills the high."

He knows about killing the high. He knows about Ryan, too. Knew. Someone etched in another world. Like her, but unlike her - she, who is constantly in between two.

"I know," Amelia tells him, "but fuck it."

He misunderstands. "I'm down."

Now she snorts.

"I have a girlfriend."

"Yeah?"

"Well," Amelia murmurs, taking the flask back. "Maybe not anymore."

"She doesn't roll?" he asks. Amelia only shakes her head. "Is she a doctor too?"

"She's not a part of this world," Amelia considers. "Neither am I."

"But you're here, aren't you?"

"No," she says, "not really."

"Jeez, Amy," he groans. "That brother of yours still fucking with your head?"

She laughs at the thought that Derek would be anything of a rival now, anything remarkable in that regard, rather than something, or someone that has just been absorbed into history, solidified in the past's unbreakable linearity.

"No," she laughs, and she remembers how she prevailed, she remembers how she is now the head of Neuro, she remembers how she extended Herman's life, and she laughs hard at the irony of her situation now.

She laughs so hard, he has to hit her back and pass her a bottle of water. She opens the cap and consumes the hot tap water in gulps, and almost downs half the bottle before he pulls it away.

"Fuck!" he says. "Chill! You're gonna over-"

She knows she could die if she drinks too much water. Dilutional hyponatremia. One of her friends died from it. Derek told her the cause. It's all in the brain.

Always in the fucking brain, she thinks.

"He's dead."

"What?"

"My brother is dead. He's dead. So no," she says. "A truck hit him. Square. He's dead. I saw his body. Kind of busted. A fucking truck," she laughs. "Fucking truck."

James looks at her, as if snapped out of his own high. She wonders what he feels in this moment, as though he's never been hit with the reality of death while elated. "Amy, you shouldn't…"

"He's still fucking with my life," she considers, drinking a gulp from her flask. It burns in her throat. But it feels good. So fucking good. "Just haunting it now."

* * *

_"How's Arizona?" he asked her first. Simply. Nicely. Enthused._

_She grinned, as though he had just announced their relationship to the entire OR._

_"She's good."_

_April smiled at her through her mask, working impeccably on the trauma beneath them._

_The plane hadn't crashed yet._

_"Moved in yet?"_

_She laughed and told him no, and instead, he began to tell her his plans. His plans for what was to come, the flight he would catch, the shortcut he would take to get there. Some hill over a mountain. Something like that, she knew. Her brother was invisible on the road._

_She loved Arizona that day. Her thoughts were fully on her. Seeking her out, loving her. She shut her out. And then she let her in. She'd always let her in, she told her. She loved her that night, too._

_She was on top of the world. She was in love._

_But it only took a day._

_It only took a day and then Owen came into her OR and told her._

_Who died_ , _she asked him. Simply. Quietly. She thought it was Arizona. It was only in her mind to think so. The thing she loves the most always dies. Always._

_Derek, he told her._

_Derek was the one who died._

* * *

She doesn't consider doing it again. She thinks it unrivaled to alcohol, to maybe oxy too, though she still hasn't done that, and perhaps she is far too old to roll, and now the comedown has overtaken her and indifference consumes her a little better this time.

She is glad that drugs do that to her. Zaps the serotonin. She has nothing left to give, anyway. She is glad that drugs make her indifferent. Everyone complains about the depression that comes after a good high, but she never gets that. All she gets is numbness.

She likes that better.

It makes her not care.

And she doesn't, she thinks, smiling, chugging the bottle of whiskey in her hand.

She doesn't give a fuck.

* * *

_Arizona did not come to her in alarm, but with caution. She came to her slowly, and took her hand, and Amelia only pulled it away and looked at her coldly._

_Arizona looked at her with wide, blue eyes. Careful eyes. Eyes that suggested that she would break at any moment._

_"Don't you dare," she told her at once. "Don't you dare pity me."_

_"Amelia."_

_"He's dead, Derek's dead," she told her, turning her back. Not letting her touch her. She'd break if she let her touch her. "And life goes on."_

* * *

_Meredith left one day, and she didn't know when. It was only a day later, and then she was gone._

_Amelia had been doing fine until she saw all of the lights on in the house, and cars parked around. Owen's. Richard's. Callie's._

_Arizona's wasn't there._

_She decided to drift over to the lake where her brother usually fished, but she found Arizona waiting at her car._

_"Amelia."_

_"Stop."_

_"Where are you going?"_

_"I really just want to be by myself."_

_"Meredith left."_

_"I know. She wants to be by herself," she continued. Why wasn't she getting it? She felt so numb, so useless. She just wanted to be anywhere else. The way her brother had been. She considered this. "Just give me a minute to be by myself."_

* * *

She doesn't get fired, because no one knows she's been using. Addison showed up for the funeral, but she only dismissed her, insisting that she was fine.

And she is. She smiles at Arizona when the blonde corners her in the hallway, telling her she needs more time, telling her that she's too busy, telling her that she doesn't really want the intimacy anymore, that it only distracts her, that that's all it's ever done, distract her from becoming renowned like _Derek_ was, and what's the point of detaining success? Anyone could die in the snap of a finger, in a single night, the way her dear brother did, and that's why she should continue to focus on her career.

Arizona doesn't believe her though, and decides to tell her what she needs. She doesn't say it like that, though, and Amelia doesn't really hear anything she says, anyway.

"Didn't you do that with Callie?" Amelia asks. "That's why your marriage failed."

Arizona flinches, and regards her eyes which may have looked cold, and then she walks away from her as though they'd been nothing after all.

* * *

Derek's forgotten luggage arrives one day, along with his discarded phone. It is in-tact despite the slight cracks it has on the corners. She laughs at the sight of it, laughs at this lucky item, the only item that wasn't crushed into pieces like the car her brother was in.

She drinks some more, but no one knows, and she doesn't go to work drunk, because she knows she isn't that fucked up, though when she feels like she's falling off into a binge, she calls and makes sure that she won't be in that day.

Lately, it's been more frequent. Like today.

But the house is hers. And so, she enjoys curling up in the couch, listening to the blaring of the television, focusing on nothing in particular. The television blares all day and all night, because she needs noise. Always.

There is a knock on the door. She ignores it. The knock continues for a while, and then her phone rings, but she considers the noise just to be more noise in the background, blaring out her blurry thoughts, until she finally drinks too much and finds herself asleep.

She wakes up disheveled, and with a headache, and considers running out to the store to get more cigarettes and alcohol.

And when she opens the door, she finds donuts at her doorstep.

* * *

She returns to find Arizona on the porch, waiting for her impatiently. She sits up quickly as she sees her, though her expression drops, noticing the way she looks.

She hasn't looked in the mirror in days. Arizona eyes the bag in her hand, but says nothing.

"You haven't called me," she starts.

Amelia notices the box of donuts in her hand.

"Was that you this morning?" she asks. "With the donuts?"

"Yes," Arizona says, eyeing her skeptically. "You're drinking."

"How did you know?"

"Addison told me."

"Oh."

"When my brother died," Arizona offers, "I ate a lot of donuts."

Amelia laughs. It's mocking. Hard. She's never laughed so rigidly before. "Donuts?"

"It helped."

"Nothing helps."

"Let me help."

"You can't fucking help."

Arizona doesn't move even as she opens the door and slams it behind her.

* * *

She cries that night, cries at her behavior, cries at the shitty way tequila makes her feel, and vows to never buy it again.

It's Meredith's favorite drink, and she wonders if she's drinking it right now, wherever she is.

She wonders if Derek is drinking it right now, wherever he is. She wonders if Arizona could die, too. Just like that. Just vanish from her life. Simply, quickly.

Just like that.

She loves her so bad, she thinks, clutching the neck of the bottle, curling up tightly against the couch.

But she doesn't know how to be.

One day, she remembers.

_"There was a plane crash," she told her._

_Callie looked at her for a brief moment, her eyes concerned. She turned her back and continued what she had been doing._

_"I know," Callie said._

_"Where is Arizona?"_

_"Shouldn't you know that?"_

_"Callie, please," she said, the tone of her voice surprising her._

_"It's not my business."_

_"But you would know, wouldn't you?"_

_"I wouldn't," Callie considered. "I still don't. Probably not ever."_

_Another part of Arizona she doesn't know. Maybe will never know._

_Amelia turned around to leave, realizing that Callie wouldn't help her, but her strong voice called out to her._

_"But you should."_

_"What?"_

_"You should know. You should be taking care of her. If she's making you happy, you should be doing the same."_

* * *

She gets a lot of phone calls, many from Arizona, many from Maggie, many from Richard, many from Owen, a few even from Callie and Alex.

There used to be more knocks on the door, but the only one that persists each day is Arizona's knock.

She ignores it each day, curled up in the couch, drinking and listening to the blaring. She doesn't know if it's been weeks or months, but surely not long enough. They haven't had the audacity to fire her yet.

She finds it ridiculous.

* * *

She breaks a bottle against the wall one day, when the television stops blaring, remembering that no one has paid the cable bill this month. She curses her luck, and listens to the quietness of the house.

The silence envelops her. She crosses her arms, as if to defend herself.

And then she hears the knock.

"Amelia?" she hears. "Amelia? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she calls out, but she is alarmed by the sound of her own voice, the cracking of it. She hasn't realized that she's been crying this entire time.

They wait, and she hears the knock again. "Amelia, please open the door."

The crying persists. She can't stop it. She clutches herself and falls on her knees. She can't respond to her.

"I'm going to try for you. I'm not going to stop, Amelia. Ever. I want you to know that. I will never give up on you. I will never leave you."

She tries to breath, but she has to breathe with her mouth. She is surprised by the sound of her voice.

"But I need you to try too," Arizona calls out, and she can hear the strain in her own voice. She wants to hold her, suddenly. "I can't take this silence. I can't take not knowing how you are."

Arizona leaves after a while, and she hears the sound of her car's engine as she drives away slowly, perhaps hoping that Amelia will come out.

People leave. Quickly, quietly.

She does come out after a while. She comes out every night.

She finds donuts at her doorstep and wants to stomp on them.

But she can't.

She can't.

So she leaves them in the cold night.

They're there every night.

And gone every morning.


	18. Chapter 18

She leaves donuts at the doorstep every morning.

The McDreamy house is not too out of her way, so she finds it feasible to drop it off before work. She hasn't seen Amelia since the time she waited outside for her, surprised to see her unkempt, and wild eyed.

She had been drinking, she knew, and she wasn't sure if she was also using.

She remembers the phone call she made to Addison months ago.

_"Addison, please," she pleaded. "I don't know what to do. I don't know how to get to her."_

_"You have to keep trying," Addison told her. "You have to be there. Don't let her destroy herself."_

But still, she is not sure how to get to her. So she simply waits. She does what she knows best.

She lets her mourn.

Amelia always finds her. _Always_. She wants to find her, too.

The loss, she remembers. Homes, babies, brothers, love.

Love.

But she knows that the donuts remain untouched every evening.

Love, she remembers.

Despite a perpetual ache, despite the vacancy of Amelia now evident in her daily life, she lets her mourn.

* * *

One morning, she is unable to drop the donuts off.

The absence of the lonely door step stays in her head, and she goes about the day in sheer anxiety. She knows Amelia doesn't notice, though she also knows that she leaves the house every other day to stock up on her intoxicants. Surely, she must know.

She is sure that Amelia is still there, waiting for her.

So she is surprised when she drops off the donuts the next day. The plate does not make a sound, it is silent as she places it on the soft mat.

"I thought you gave up," she hears. The voice is weak from the other side, and she almost finds relief in its lively sadness.

"Amelia," she calls out. "Amelia, let me in. Please."

"Get out," she receives, a sharp tone. "Just go," she hears again. The voice is broken and disparate in its tone. It makes her chest ache.

She knocks again. "Amelia."

She waits, as though the woman might change her mind.

But she doesn't. And so she leaves.

* * *

The next morning, Amelia opens the door and takes a donut from the box before she can place it down.

Amelia doesn't look at her. She just stares at the donut in her hand, the other occupied on the door's knob, as though she might shut it if Arizona makes any movement.

"I'll eat one today," she considers, still watching the plain donut in her hand. Her hair is unkempt, and swept to the side, and her eyes are glossy and tired. Most of all, they are dark. She wants to reach her hand out and touch her. "It's more practical to have it in a box, you know. You can't leave a plate of donuts outside all day."

Arizona chuckles softly, pleased just to hear her voice. To see that she's alive. "You're right."

Amelia's eyes never move to her face, and after a while, she turns around and leaves the doorstep, the door still ajar. Arizona remains at the doorstep, her heart beating in her chest. She watches her back as she drifts away from her.

But she calls out, "You going to come in? It's cold."

Arizona shuts the door behind her and walks toward Amelia, who returns to her place on the couch. The smell of the house is pungent - a mixture of cigarette smoke, spilled alcohol, and Amelia. She observes the floor for a moment, noticing the empty whiskey bottles scattered among the floor. She looks to the coffee table, at the plate that has been used as an ashtray, overflowing with cigarette butts.

Amelia says nothing to her, and crumples into the couch, nibbling on the donut in her grasp. Her eyes return to the blaring of the television. Arizona approaches her, and sits on the couch, next to the balled-up Amelia, who lies absent-mindedly as though she had not been there at all.

"I had to pay the cable bill," she tells her.

"Not the phone bill?"

"You can pay one, but not the other," Amelia tells her. "Meredith didn't get the packaged deal."

"Right," Arizona nods, afraid to touch her. Afraid to speak to her, as though she might draw away from her in a moment.

She sits there for hours, staring at the blaring of the television, hearing only her heart beating in her chest, waiting for Amelia to speak again. But she doesn't, and when Arizona looks at her, she is asleep on the couch, the donut still and loose in her hand. She leans over, and kisses her forehead softly, and she is relieved to know that she still feels the same, that she still smells the same. That she is still alive.

She begins to clear the whiskey bottles.

* * *

She finds the door open the next day, and she closes it behind her.

Amelia is sleeping on the couch, and she looks to the floor and finds another whiskey bottle, half-emptied, and just out of her reach. She approaches Amelia and crouches to look at her, to still find her breathing, to brush her hair out of the way. She kisses her forehead.

She takes the bottle from the floor and goes to the kitchen and pours the liquid out. It takes a moment before she hears Amelia with her voice raised.

"What are you doing?"

She turns around, as if caught doing something obscene, and only watches her in surprise. Amelia runs to her, her feet stumbling, and Arizona knows that she is drunk. She draws the bottle away and throws it into the trash.

"What the fuck," Amelia says angrily. She stares at her, and this is when Amelia finally meets her gaze. When she seems brave enough to. Her eyes are angry, and unrecognizable, and it makes Arizona fear her, makes her pity her in some inconsolable way.

"Don't you speak?" Amelia asks her again, her voice calmer this time. Her eyes remain the same, though, and she turns from her and reaches the cupboard, pulling another full bottle from it.

"Amelia," Arizona starts, and she reaches over and pulls the bottle from her.

"Stop it," Amelia hisses, pulling the bottle back from her, and the force of her pull surprises Arizona. She pulls it back, though, and begins to draw away, but Amelia only follows her, pushing herself into her, until she is pressed against the wall.

She pulls the bottle back. "Give me the fucking bottle."

"I'm sorry this happened. I am _so sorry_ , Amelia. But this is not the answer."

"Fuck you."

"Amelia, please," she says, her hand gripping one arm while pulling the bottle from her grasp. Amelia pulls away just as strongly though, and smashes the bottle on the floor before pushing Arizona hard against the wall.

She can smell the brandy in Amelia's breath - a new choice, she briefly thinks, before she looks into resentful hazel eyes.

"You wouldn't understand" she starts, faltering in her words as she watches her eyes fall, "anything."

"Derek is dead," Arizona says. "But there is life after him, Amelia." Her heart is thundering now, and she is sure the woman will do something reckless. Amelia pushes herself harder against Arizona.

"I was happy," she starts. "This is what I get for getting my hopes up," she continues. "When everything seems perfect."

Her eyes grow dark and red and she pushes her forehead against Arizona's chest.

"Now I have nothing."

The loneliness in her voice alarms Arizona. She feels the weakness in her body, the uselessness in her tone. She touches her shoulders. "You have me."

Amelia crumples into her chest, suddenly, and the force of her weight makes Arizona fall back against the wall. She holds her shoulders as they slide down onto the floor. Amelia is crying now, onto her chest, gripping her sweater tightly, unwilling to show her face.

She is only crying, so Arizona gently embraces her, pressing her nose against her hair.

She waits until she is calm, until the crying stops entirely. She rubs her back slowly.

And after a while, Amelia weakly asks, "I do?"

Arizona smiles. It's unsettling, but true. She gathers the woman into her arms and says, just as softly, "You do."

* * *

Amelia picks up an empty whiskey bottle on the floor where they are seated, and she stares at it blankly. Arizona follows her gaze, though she is tired, though she has remained on the floor the entire day, holding Amelia close to her.

They both sit on the floor with their backs to the wall, and their fingers entangled.

"It's so easy," she murmurs.

"What?" Arizona asks, looking at her. She is tired and does not want to let go of Amelia's hand. She worries that she will slip away in an instant. "Amelia?"

"If I wanted to set fire to this room, all I would have to do is pour some liquid," she explains, raising the depleted bottle in her other hand in demonstration, "and get a lighter."

"Yeah," Arizona agrees, tightening the hold on her hand.

"It's _that_ easy to die."

"It is," Arizona considers. She is afraid, terrified of what she might do.

They remain on the floor, and Amelia rests her head on Arizona's shoulder, allowing the bottle to fall from her grasp.

Amelia says, "I can't go cold turkey."

* * *

It is not with some grand gesture that she finds Amelia at her doorstep.

But she does, and it's likely the first time she has been outside of the house. It is an early morning, and Arizona has taken the week off so that she could spend it with her.

But she is surprised to find her standing at the door of her apartment.

Amelia's eyes are no longer hazy, but she looks nervous, and unsettled, as though she doesn't belong. Arizona watches as she fumbles with her hands, but then she finally meets her gaze.

The calm in them begins to warm Arizona's heart.

"I went to AA."

"You, you did…" she starts, taking her hand. She pulls her inside and shuts the door behind her. Amelia draws closer to her, and wraps her arms around her neck, pulling her close before kissing her softly on the lips. The clean smell of Amelia makes her feel at ease.

"I talked about you," she murmurs against her lips.

"Me?"

"I talked about how you're always saving me," she tells her. "That's enough to get me by."

* * *

She comes over often, and Amelia always holds her hand and smokes cigarettes on the balcony. It could be Derek's balcony, or the small one in Arizona's apartment. It wouldn't matter. As long as Amelia comes to her.

"I'm getting better," Amelia says to her.

"Do you still want to drink?"

"Always," she says, and the fear rises in Arizona's throat again. But she listens, "every minute. But I'm not going to."

"Alcohol makes you forget," Arizona tells her, as though she might in some way understand.

"I hate the universe," she declares. "And how fucked up it is. That's all."

"Me too," she says, taking Amelia's hand. The woman looks at her. "But it has you in it, so it isn't too bad."

"You know, you're wrong in your impressions of me," Amelia begins to tells her. The cigarette dangles from her lips as she speaks, stale ash accumulating at the end of it, threatening to fall at any moment. As if remembering, she takes a small drag and removes it from her lips, allowing the ash to fall onto the decaying wood beneath them. "I'm not brave like you," she admits. "I wish I were."

"But you are, you know?" Arizona tells her. Amelia's eyes seem brighter as she looks to her, as she finally takes her in. "You're a superhero."

* * *

One day Amelia tells her, "I don't know why you do it."

"Do what?"

They are sitting on Derek's balcony, watching the view of the city beneath them. It's a hot night, and days have gone by slowly. Amelia seems better, she realizes, but she can never be sure. The brunette smiles, and looks to the floor, and back up at Arizona, as if she still doesn't understand her, as if she never could. Her uncertainty shakes the blonde. Her uncertainty makes her heart race.

Amelia is so reckless, she thinks. She could disappear in an instant.

"Why do you stay with me," Amelia says, more than she asks. "I don't know why you stay with me."

She doesn't want her to disappear. Ever.

So Arizona says it simply. Because she knows what that means.

"Because I love you," Arizona tells her.

Amelia drops the cigarette in her hand, as if caught off guard. It lands on her thigh and she jumps up from the burn of it against her skin. Arizona leaps up as well, and stomps on the cigarette that lands on the wooden deck. Amelia falls back in her seat, and Arizona bends down on her knees to dust the ash off of her skin.

"Ow," Amelia says. "That burned."

Losing her balance on her prosthetic, she places her forehead almost on Amelia's lap. She feels the brunette's fingers thread through her hair. She adjusts herself and dusts the ash off softly, and gently, and she leans her head over to kiss the spot. Amelia's thigh is soft against her lips. She can't remember the last time they had sex. Her heart begins to race. Still on her knees, she places her hands gently on Amelia's thighs and looks up at her.

"I love you," she says again.

"Y-you do…" Amelia murmurs, her face turning red. Unnerved.

"I'm sorry," Arizona says.

"Why?" Amelia asks. "Why?"

"It scares you."

"It's unreal."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Amelia tells her. "It makes me… It's almost unreal."

Arizona smiles, the thumping hard in her chest. Amelia takes her hands and pulls her onto her lap. Her hand touches her chest. The thumping gets harder.

"Your heart is beating really fast," Amelia notes.

Arizona laughs, embarrassed. "Well, I, uh, yeah."

"You really mean it."

"Of course I mean it."

Amelia's smile grows wide, and Arizona feels as she wraps her arms around her, burying her head in her chest, her ear against her heart.

"I'm glad," she tells her. "I'm glad you do."


End file.
